Exiled
by ICanStopAnytime
Summary: Coach Deacon Taylor can't handle his own child anymore. He's going to have to pull Eric from the team and send him to live with his grandfather on Second Chances Ranch.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

Coach Taylor stirred at 12:20 AM and turned in bed to draw his wife back against his chest. He felt blindly in front of himself, but his arm landed only on the uninhabited mattress. It was another few seconds of grasping for her imaginary form before he was awake enough to remember she was dead.

The pain swelled like a wave rising from the pit of his stomach to his heart, just as it had that first moment of realization, a little over a year ago, when he'd gotten the late night call from the hospital.

The phone was ringing now too.

He rolled again to his left and banged about the nightstand until he had it in his hand. He fought the urge to slam it down and instead murmured a sleepy, aching "Hello?"

"Coach Taylor?"

"Yes."

"This is Sheriff Chavez."

"Hey, Raul. It's late." He closed his eyes. He had a faint idea of what was coming, but he prayed it wasn't the case.

"Yeah…uh…I've got your kid down here. In the drunk tank. Again."

"I'll be right down."

Coach Taylor rubbed the sleep dust from his eyes as he cranked his Ford pick-up to a start. He adjusted his black coach's cap up and down on his forehead and tried to blink the road into focus as he drove. When he walked into the station, he went straight to the Sheriff's desk. "You got the paperwork for me?"

"Look…uh…I can't just give him a slap on the wrist this time. I know y'all had a big win tonight, and some of the other boys were drinking too."

"I realize this is the third time you've picked him up for public intoxication. And I assure you I will come down hard on him. I will – "

"- It wasn't just public intoxication this time, Coach. He was driving."

"What? I took away his keys!"

"He was driving Billy Joe's car. But that's not the main problem. He blew 0.2%."

"Jesus Christ," Coach Taylor muttered. "That high?"

"They were getting into Bobby Vee's moonshine."

"Was there an accident?"

"No one was hurt, thank God, but he was all over the road and tried to escape me through a cotton field. Did some damage. Joe McKinney is going to want some compensation, I'm sure."

"Jesus," Coach Taylor muttered again.

"You can post bail tonight, but he's going to have to come back for his court date. This is his first DUI, and if you get Luis Rodriguez to represent him, he'll get off easy with a plea bargain. Probably just have to take antiabuse and get his driver's license revoked for six months. He's a juvenile, so his record will be sealed."

Coach Taylor took in a deep, shaky breath. "What if I leave him for a night?"

The Sheriff shook his head. "Might send a message, but, honest to God, Coach, I think he's going to need something more than a little bit of tough love here."

Coach Taylor ripped off his hat and dug his hand into his hair. "I don't know what I'm doing here, Raul, raising this boy alone like this."

"Maybe you need to get yourself a wife."

"I can't even begin to think about that right now."

"Well you need help. So, you bailing him out tonight or not?"

He did bail the boy out, and when they were sitting in his truck, with the sixteen year old partly sobered up and rocking a little in the passenger's seat beside him, Coach Taylor slammed his fist against the dashboard three times, hard, because he didn't want to slam it into his son. "God dammnit, Eric!" he screamed, "Goddammint! What the HELL is wrong with you?"

"I was just…we were just…"

"You're an embarrassment to the Taylor name. You're an embarrassment to your team. I can't keep covering your tracks for you. I won't keep doing it. I know I haven't been the best father this past year, but I don't know what I've done to deserve this!"

Eric gritted his teeth and stared outside the windshield.

"I'm pulling you from the team."

"What? We've got play-offs in three weeks!"

"Son, you're in real trouble this time. You're going to trial."

"Dad, you can't win without me."

It was true. He wasn't sure they could. Eric was good, a junior who was the star quarterback of that team. His second string, though already a senior, wasn't anywhere near Eric's ability.

"And if you pull me now, I won't get that scholarship UT's been dangling in front of my nose!"

"I know that. But if you get your head on straight and keep your record clean and come back and play for me again next year, you'll have a chance to earn another one." Hell, Eric could probably make it all the way to the NFL if he didn't kill himself or end up in jail before then.

"How can you even consider pulling me?"

"Son," Coach Taylor said, "it's time I took away football. Time I took away something you actually give a shit about, because you don't seem to give a shit about much else!"

"Me? You're the one who cares about it! It's you're whole goddamn life! This entire season you've made me get up at 5 AM to run plays."

He had, it was true, but mostly because he'd been awake since 3 AM every day. He'd wanted the company. He hadn't slept more than 4.5 a day since she died. He'd get up early in the morning and try to pray, but there would be no words. He'd tried to read, but the lines would blur. He'd run in the morning, before the sun rose, when it was still cool, his breath making faint clouds in the early November air, and finally, he'd pound on Eric's door shouting, "Hut, hut! Time to get up! Got to run those plays! Got to run those plays!"

"And you make me run those plays over and over again. I can never do them good enough for you!"

Coach Taylor did, it was true, make Eric run those plays a few too many times, perhaps, but coaching was something he was good at. Improving Eric's game was something he could _do_. It was something he could _control_. It was _something_. "That's not true, son," he lied. "You know that's not true. I just want you to achieve your best."

Eric shook his head. "Fine. Go ahead and take me off the team. Watch it go down like a, like a…"

"Too drunk to think of a good simile?"

"See, nothing is ever good enough for you!"

"Eric, you're right. Your C- average is not good enough for me! Getting drunk in public and being hauled in to the station is not good enough for me! You risking the lives of two of your friends because you got behind the wheel of a car drunk off your ass is not good enough for me!"

He cranked the engine on. He drove in silence all the way to the house, but when they were in the carport, and the engine was off, he spoke, slowly and deliberately. "I can't do this anymore."

"Do what?" Eric asked.

"I don't know what to do with you. I know I haven't done a good job of raising you alone this past year. I know that." Coach Taylor sighed. "I can't handle you." He glanced at Eric. The boy's nostril flared. It looked like he was fighting back tears. "Your mother would have…she would have…This never would have happened, if she were alive. And I just can't do it by myself anymore." He pulled the keys out of the ignition. They jangled loudly. "I'll help you get off easy on the drunk driving charges. I'll get you a damn good lawyer. After you've had your court date, I'm sending you to live with your grandfather for the rest of your junior year and most of the summer. You can come back for summer training in August. Repeat your junior year next year. Pull up those grades."

"What? Send me where?"

"To live with your Grandfather Maddox. Your mother's father." Warren Maddox had not approved of Deacon Taylor eloping with his daughter when she was just a ripe eighteen, especially given that Deacon himself was already twenty at the time and had been living under the old man's roof and in his trust. Coach Taylor's relationship with his father-in-law had been somewhat strained ever since. "He's in Weslaco now."

"Where the fuck is Weslaco?"

Coach Taylor knew he should correct the boy for swearing. There was a time he would have. There was a time Eric wouldn't even have _considered_ swearing in his presence. That time was gone, and he was too weary to correct him now. He was just so tired. That was the worst thing about her death – not the grief that ebbed and flowed like a tide pulling back and rolling in, but the sheer tiredness. The goddamn tiredness. He was just so tired all the time, even when he was running, even when he was yelling, even when he was on that field, bringing his boys to victory, even when he was doing the thing he loved most in this world – most besides _her_. "It's…it's near Brownsville," he said, and said it through his teeth, so he wouldn't cry. He looked to his left, at the kitchen door, so Eric wouldn't see the wetness in his eyes either.

Coach Taylor didn't know exactly when everything had fallen apart, when Eric had completely stopped saying "yes, sir" and "no, sir," when he'd started drinking, when he'd let his grades slip. It was sometime after his mother died, of course, but he couldn't pinpoint the exact moment it had started, because, well, the truth was, he hadn't been paying attention to his son, except when they were playing football, and then he wasn't paying attention to his son so much as paying attention to his plays, his form, his runs. Maybe it was because the boy looked to damn much like _her_ , or maybe it was because he himself was a shit father and his wife had been the only one holding the family together…he didn't know. He just knew he was failing his son, and if he couldn't give the boy what he needed, someone else had to.

"That's on the border! That's at least 400 miles away!" Eric said, and Coach Taylor couldn't tell if it was fear or anger or sadness in his voice, or maybe all three at once, multiplying one another. "And I've seen Grandpa Maddox….like…three times in my entire life. Why would you….why would you send me away? Send me to live with him?"

"Because that's what he does on his ranch, your grandfather. He helps troubled teenagers."

"So that's what I am to you? A troubled kid you need to pawn off on some ranch?"

"Eric, do you think you _aren't_ troubled?"

"Clearly, I'm _in_ trouble, anyway."

"I'm sorry, son, but I don't know what else to do." He threw his shoulder against the truck door. Eric didn't get out.

Coach Taylor left the porch light on, and the kitchen door unlocked, and his son just sitting there, staring through the windshield. He crawled back into his too-big bed and pulled a pillow to himself. Damn if it didn't, after all these months, and all these washings of sheets, still smell like her shampoo.


	2. Chapter 2

On Saturday morning, Coach Taylor awoke later than usual, at 7:30 AM. He went to Eric's room to check that the boy had come inside last night. The door creaked as he eased it open. The teenager was snoring softly beneath his heavy Cowboys comforter, the one his mother had quilted for him when he was just eight. Eric had put it in storage in the attic when he turned twelve, too old then, he thought, for a bedroom theme, but he'd drawn it out again a month after she died.

From Eric's wall hung a Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Calendar. Miss November was nearly naked. Ivy would have never allowed that on his wall, and maybe Coach Taylor should have told him to take it down. Ivy would have given Eric a lecture on respecting women if he'd put that up under her watch. Coach Taylor wasn't much for lectures himself, unless they related to football, but he hoped he'd at least shown Eric how to respect a woman by the way he had treated his own wife. He wasn't so sure, though. The boy had broken up with his steady girlfriend, a sweet, quiet and modest girl named Mary Ellen, and for the past few months, Coach Taylor had heard rumors that Eric had been jumping from cheerleader to cheerleader, leaving disappointment in his wake. Ivy would have made Coach Taylor talk to the boy about it, but in her absence, Deacon Taylor found it so much easier just to talk about football. Not that it mattered. Soon enough, Eric wouldn't have contact with any girls for seven months.

Coach Taylor quietly closed the door. He walked to the kitchen, started the coffee, and then slid the chair out from the kitchen desk and eased down on the hard wood. The plastic of the receiver from the kitchen phone was cool and slick in his hand. The cards of the rolodex fluttered as he turned it to the M's. Coach Taylor hadn't seen or spoken to Warren Maddox since Ivy's funeral. He put his finger in the hole for the number one, turned the wheel, and watched it whirl. He dialed the numbers one by one. His father-in-law would be awake. On the ranch, he woke with the sun.

"Second Chances Ranch," a teenage boy answered.

"Warren Maddox please."

"May I ask who's calling?"

"Coach Deacon Taylor."

A click of receiver against wood was followed by silence, and then his father-in-law's deep Texas drawl, "Deacon, what can I do ya for?"

"You were right. Eric started lashing out after Ivy died, just like you thought he would." Warren had warned him this might happen at the funeral, but Coach Taylor had shrugged off his father-in-law's unsolicited advice with the words, _Eric's always been a well-behaved kid._

"And what have you done about it?" Warren asked.

"Hell, I've just been trying to keep putting one foot in front of the other. And I know I haven't done a good job with him. He's about to get convicted of a DUI."

"Is he now?"

"And that's the third time I've had to pick him up from the station. The others were for public intoxication. His grades are in the gutter. I've pulled him from the team. I'm at a loss. I was hoping you could take him when the semester's over. I'll drive him down during winter break, leave him with you until August. See if you can't straighten him out."

"You always were too concerned with your own things."

The heat rushed to Coach Taylor's head. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Well, you sure didn't think of Ivy – of her education - or of me or Ivy's mother when you eloped with her."

"That was twenty-one years ago."

"She was barely eighteen, Deacon."

"Legal marrying age," Coach Taylor reminded him. "And you got married when you were only sixteen."

"That was a different time, and I asked my future father-in-law for her hand. You were working for me, Deacon, living in my bunk house with the other ranch hands. I gave you not only a job but room and board when you desperately needed it. And you thanked me for it by seducing my daughter and moving her hundreds of miles away from me."

"I didn't go about it the right way twenty-one years ago," Coach Taylor told his father-in-law. "I should have asked for her hand and your blessing. All these delinquent boys you've turned around in the past fifteen years, these boys you've cared for like your own - and still you can't forgive me that one thing?"

"She was all I had after her mother died, and you just took her without a word. After seducing her _under my roof._ "

Deacon didn't know what his father-in-law imagined went on back then. He and Ivy had flirted and kissed and maybe petted a little, but Ivy had refused to have sex with him outside of marriage. Maybe that was partly why he'd been so eager to marry her so fast. He'd been blindly infatuated with her back then – she was funny and smart and beautiful, so very beautiful. She could ride a horse and shoot like Annie Oakley, too, and Deacon didn't think there was another girl like her in all the world. He was older, but she was more mature, more grounded. He'd gone to Texas A&M on a full scholarship and lost it his freshman year when he broke his arm. The arm had healed, but he'd never gotten his scholarship back, and he'd never finished college. Deacon's parents barely had two dimes to rub together, so he sent his mother money from his jobs whenever he could. He'd drifted from town to town after dropping out of college, looking for work and taking it wherever he could find it.

He'd married Ivy for somewhat shallow reasons at first. He'd wanted to bed her something awful. And their first three years of marriage had been touch and go, as they eked out an existence hundreds of miles from both their families. They fought and they learned. She wouldn't take any crap from him at all, and she'd taught him how to argue and how to love. With her support, he worked his way up, and eventually, even without a degree, he became an Athletic Director and coach of a large high school. They grew together and grieved together through three miscarriages before finally rejoicing in Eric's birth. Deacon Taylor had grown to love that woman more than himself, and he'd have done anything to please her.

"I loved your daughter, Warren. I was faithful to her. I provided for her. I loved her long and hard. You can fault me for a hundred things, but not for my lack of love for her."

"Then love her son."

"I do. I love _our_ son. That's why I'm willing to turn him over to you for a while. That's why I'm willing to take him off my team and probably lose the best chance I've had at State in the course of my entire career. Because I love him and I don't know how to help him become the man I know he can be. I don't know how to do it without Ivy."

"Did you tell him that's why you're sending him to me? Because you love him?"

"Not in those words."

"Then use those words," Warren Maddox said, "before you send him to me." And with that, he hung up.

[*]

Coach Taylor pushed the bottle of anabuse pills across the chipped yellow formica kitchen counter top. "I want to see you take it."

Eric sighed and rolled his eyes. He pushed down on the childproof cap, twisted, fingered out a pill, and then swallowed it dry. "Happy?"

"No, I'm not happy you have to take these."

"Don't know why the court's making me. I'm not an alcoholic. I only get drunk after games. So do a lot of other guys. I don't hear you chewing out Joey and Mack. They were with me when I got arrested, you know."

"They weren't driving. And I did chew them out. I'm benching them both for the next two games. They don't get to come back on the team until the playoffs."

Eric shoved a folder into his backpack, which was lying on the counter, and violently zipped it up. "You won't even make it to the playoffs without the three of us."

"Maybe not, but Mo McArnold is doing better than I expected." Mo was Coach Taylor's second string quarterback. He'd moved him up to replace Eric. "He's eager to prove himself. He's working hard. You could learn a thing or two from him."

"From Mo?" Eric slung his backpack over his shoulder.

"He's polite, a hard worker, no arrests. B+ average." Coach Taylor thought he better broach this subject. Ivy would have wanted him to, maybe more than any of the others: "And he's respectful toward girls."

Eric snorted. "You don't know what goes on off your field."

"I know enough to know _you_ haven't been respectful to girls. And your mother would be mortified."

"Playing the dead mother card again, are you?" Eric leaned back against the stove and crossed his arms over his chest. "I haven't done anything with a girl she didn't _want_ me to do."

"Oh, well congratulations on not being a rapist."

Eric shook his head and looked away.

"You break up with Mary Ellen, a truly sweet girl – because she won't put out for you, and then you start cycling through the cheer- "

"- Never bothered you when your star linebacker was doing it."

"Rick's not my son. _You're_ my son. I have higher standards for you than my other players, and it's not true that it didn't bother me. But I'm not that boy's father." Coach Taylor sighed. He wasn't getting anywhere with this conversation. "Let's go."

"Why do I even have to go to school and finish out the semester, if you're just going to make me retake my entire junior year next year?"

"Because you're sixteen, Eric. This is what you do. You go to school."

"Until you can pawn me off on Grandpa Maddox, you mean?"

The sense of failure welled up in Coach Taylor's chest, churned, and turned to anger. "You brought this on yourself, Eric. Now get in the damn truck!"

Coach Taylor paced after his son to the kitchen door. As he was locking the door from the outside, the passenger's door of the truck slammed and echoed beneath the carport. When they were parked in the school lot, Eric didn't open the door right away. Coach Taylor thought he was bitter about the role he'd been assigned - hauling water, cleaning toilets, and doing laundry for the team. He had to watch, from the sidelines, Mo assume his mantle. "A little hard work never hurt anyone, son. You're going to be doing a hell of a lot more than this on the ranch."

"Yeah, I get paid for any of it?"

"Hopefully you'll get paid dividends in character."

"If you think Grandpa Maddox is such a great guy," Eric asked, jerking his backpack up from the floor. "Then why do you two hardly ever talk to each other? Why has he only come to visit twice since I was born?"

"We talk, your grandfather and I. A couple times a year. Your mother visited him a few times over the years, too, without us. But you know Weslaco's a long ways away."

Eric put his hand on the car door handle. "By the way, whatever you might have heard around school, I didn't break up with Mary Ellen because she wouldn't put out. We lost our virginity to each other a week before Mom died. And Mary Ellen initiated it."

Coach Taylor blinked.

"I didn't break up with her at all. _She_ broke up with _me_ because I wasn't fun to hang out with anymore after Mom died. She put up with me the first three months, out of guilt, but then she said she just couldn't do it anymore. She said she wasn't my psychiatrist, and she couldn't make me her project to fix. She had to move on with her life. So, yeah, I fooled around with some perfectly willing girls after she cut me loose, because I thought it would make her jealous and make me feel better. But you wouldn't know any of that, would you? Because you never fucking asked." He threw his shoulder against the door to push it open.

A thousand words clattered around in Coach Taylor's mind. _I didn't know that, son, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't talk to you after your mother died. I'm sorry I could barely function myself. I'm sorry I've been drowning my sorrows in football. I love you, and I'm sorry I'm not the father your mother would have wanted me to be. I'm sorry...I'm sorry...I'm sorry._ But what came out was, "Don't you _ever_ use that language with me again!"

The passenger's door slammed shut.


	3. Chapter 3

Eric shoved the football down into his stack of underwear. He had to lay his body across the suitcase to zip it up all the way around. Seven months he'd be gone from home. Seven months with no girls, no football team, nothing but mucking stalls and bailing hay and God knows what else Grandpa Maddox was going to make him do. He'd have to spend his days with a bunch of juvenile delinquents, too – other "troubled" teenage boys. Why did his father think it was going to help him to hang out with a bunch of degenerates anyway?

Eric sighed and looked around his room at all the Pee Wee and high school football trophies that lined his dresser and book case. Under Mo McArnold's new leadership, the Bowie Boars had made it to the playoffs without him, but they'd been slaughtered in the first game, 49-6. Maybe he'd win a state ring next year, when he came back to his father's team, if Grandpa "fixed" him to Dad's satisfaction.

Eric walked to his dresser where a photo lay face down and turned it up. His mother smiled from the frame, in front of the Christmas tree from two years ago. Eric, just as tall as her, smiled forcefully to her left, obviously annoyed at what must have been the third or fourth photo take. Eric's dad had his arm around his mom in the photo and was looking down at her with an unfamiliar warmth in his eyes, a light Eric hadn't seen since she'd died. He was suddenly struck with the realization of how much his father had lost, too, and he felt a strange empathy for the man he didn't _want_ to feel.

Eric shoved the photo in the outer pocket of his suitcase and zipped that up to. As they were loading the pick-up later, Eric noticed the **_Sold_** sign on the small, two-bedroom rambler next door. "Wonder who would buy that piece of shit house," he said.

"Language," his father told him, and shut the hatch of the pick-up.

[*]

Eric turned up the volume on his Sony Walkman as Coach Taylor pulled the pick-up onto I-35. In the rear view mirror, the sun rose on Euless, the sixth town Eric had lived in over the past sixteen years. They'd kept moving for bigger and better coaching gigs for his father, though Eric's mother had insisted they stay put in Dillon for all three years of Eric's middle school. His father had wanted him to play for the Dillon Panthers, but, unfortunately, the Panthers were not in need of a head coach, and the Bowie High Boars were.

It was going to be a long drive. Eight hours at least. They'd packed a cooler for lunch in case nothing was open on Christmas Eve. Coach Taylor had sports radio on low. The commentators had been debating the relative quality of various NFL head coaches, which interested his father but meant little to Eric. He loved to play, but he never understood why anyone would want to coach. _Those who can't **do**_ , he would mutter behind his father's back, _teach_.

They'd probably driven two hours when Coach Taylor suddenly ripped the headphones off Eric's head.

"Hey!" Eric barked. "I was listening to that."

Coach Taylor turned off the car radio with a click and then tossed Eric's Walkman, still playing, in the backseat. Music drifted from the headphones. "I'm not going to see you for seven months. Your mother would want us to use this time to talk."

Eric bent through the space between the two seats and grabbed his Walkman from the back. He plunked down in his seat again and stopped the cassette tape before flipping it over. "We both know that's not what either of _us_ wants."

"Put the damn Walkman in the back!" his father ordered. "And put your seat belt on, too."

"Why? There's no law that says I have to wear one."

"Well they're about to pass one."

Eric threw the Walkman on the back seat and buckled in. "Fine. Let's get this over with. What do you want me to talk about?"

Coach Taylor bit down on his back teeth so hard Eric thought he was going to grind the bottom row off. His father's knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. But then he cleared his throat and calmly, forcefully asked, "What are you most looking forward to on the ranch?"

"Leaving it in August."

"You're not interested in riding horses at all?"

"No, I'm not a twelve-year-old girl."

"Your mother grew up on that ranch. You know, she used to jump horses. She was good."

"Yeah? Why'd she stop?" Eric asked.

"Well, we couldn't afford to stable a horse, not until a few years ago, and by then...I guess she was out of practice. Lost interest, too, I suppose. Maybe I should have encouraged her to keep that up." He ran a hand across his mouth. "She gave up a lot for me."

Eric looked out the window.

There was a long silence, and then his father asked, "What was your favorite subject in school this year?"

"Lunch."

"That's not a subject," his father said with irritation.

"P.E."

"Besides P.E.," he insisted.

"Well, I got bad grades in all of them, according to you, so I guess nothing."

"You got a B in American History."

Eric threw up his hand. "Fine, American History was my favorite subject. You happy now? Are we done talking?"

"Yeah. We're done talking," Coach Taylor answered, and clicked the radio back on, turning it up louder this time, so that when Eric retrieved his Walkman, he had to put it all the way on ten.

[*]

The tires kicked up dust on the gravely dirt road that led through the open gates of Second Chances Ranch. The air was fifteen degrees warmer than it had been when they left Euless. Eric would have worn short sleeves had he known.

Grandpa Maddox looked like something out of a black and white western when he strolled out to meet the pick-up. His brown-and-tan, snake-skin cowboy boots were intricately decorated with white stitching in the shape of a cross, and angry looking spurs stuck out the back. He was taller even than Eric's father, a towering 6'4", his thick gray hair curling out beneath the black Stetson that was cocked down on his head. His cheeks were grizzled, like he hadn't shaved in about 32 hours. "Deacon," he said and extended his hand. Eric's father shook.

Grandpa Maddox nodded to Eric. "Good to see you, young man." His Texas accent was ten feet deep. "Glad to have you on board. I can use all the help I can get." He said help like it didn't have a letter _l_ in it.

Eric didn't reply.

"Yes, sir?" Grandpa Maddox asked gently. "Lookin' forward to it?"

"Yes, sir," Eric echoed, a bit sarcastically. "Looking forward to it."

"Well, I'll show you to your room, then. Grab your suitcase."

Eric was led into the main house of the ranch, which was made of wood planks and had a rustic smell to it. A giant, brown, metal, decorative star hung from the outside, the sort of stars you saw all over Texas. They went through a large kitchen with a long, picnic-bench like table and copper pots and cast iron pans hanging from above the island stove top, past a Christmas tree in the living room, littered with presents beneath, and to a bedroom, where Grandpa Maddox left him, saying, "I'm gonna talk to your pa a bit. Get to know yer roommates."

Eric set his suitcase down and looked at the tall, pale, teenager lying on his side on the top bunk. He was reading _Of Mice and Men._ The boy's head was shaved into a neat, brownish-blonde buzz cut, and he had a swastika tattooed to his lean upper arm, which you could see easily because of the wife beater t-shirt he was wearing. On the bunk below him was a black kid, short but sinewy, his muscles rippling against his Malcolm X t-shirt. He was working on a book of crossword puzzles. They were strange bedfellows, to say the least.

The black kid sat up, swinging his legs onto the floor. "I'm Dante. You get that bunk." He pointed to another bunk bed that had a mattress on the bottom but not on the top.

"Dante?" Eric asked. "Like…the Inferno guy?"

"Yeah. You got a problem with it?"

Eric shook his head. "No. No problem."

Now the white kid sat up, swinging his legs over the bunk and right into Dante's face. Dante smacked the legs out of his face and crawled out of the bunk to lean against the closet door instead. Standing up like that, he looked a little a taller, but Eric didn't think he could be more than 5'8".

"And this here's Adolf," Dante said.

"Name's William, actually," the white kid said. "But you can call me Billy."

Eric put his suitcase on the bunk, which was already made up. "I'm Eric. Where do I put my clothes?"

Billy dropped down from the top bunk. "Ya get this drawer." He walked over to the tall, oak dresser and rolled the bottom drawer open with his bare left foot. He was missing his little toe. It was just a stub. Eric tried not to stare, but he must have been, because Billy said, "What the hell you lookin' at, city boy?"

Eric busied himself with unzipping his suitcase. He didn't mention that he lived in a semi-rural suburb. "I'll only be able to fit half of my clothes in there."

"Keep the rest of your shit in your suitcase," Billy said.

"And keep your suitcase under your bed," Dante added.

Eric started unpacking, occasionally glancing over his shoulder at the two teenagers, who seemed to be watching him intently.

"You're Warren's grandson?" Dante asked.

"Yeah." They called him _Warren_? Eric thought his grandfather would have insisted on _Sir._ His father sure as hell did.

"Don't for a second think that's gonna get ya out of shoveling shit," Billy told him. "We all start there."

"A'right," Eric replied. He felt very uncomfortable with their eyes on him as he tried to cram as many of his clothes as he could in the bottom drawer.

"You bring any porn mags?" Billy asked.

"No," Eric replied.

"Good," Billy said. "'Cause the whole room gets extra chores if we get caught with 'em, and I ain't gettin' saddled with extra chores without kickin' someone's ass. And Dante here'll kick yer ass twice. Hell, he'll kick it six ways to Sunday."

"Duly noted," Eric said and rolled the drawer shut.

"We've got today off," Dante told him. "And tomorrow for Christmas. Then it's back to work. Lights out at ten every night except tonight."

"Ten?" Eric asked. He was used to staying up until midnight at home.

"Yer gonna wish ya went to bed at nine when ya gotta wake with the rooster in the mornin'," Billy told him.

"Where are you from?" Dante asked.

"Euless," Eric answered.

"Where the hell's that?" Billy asked.

"Between Dallas and Fort Worth."

"Too many damn towns in this state," Billy said. "How long were ya in juvie?"

Eric scratched the back of his head nervously. He wasn't sure it was a good idea to let these guys know he'd never set foot inside a juvenile detention center. "About a year," he lied.

"A _year_?" Dante asked. "Half of us only got community service, the rest, a couple months maybe, before we got sent here."

"Yeah," Billy agreed. "What the hell did you _do_?"

"Uh...well..."

"He killed a man just to watch him die," came Grandpa Maddox's deep voice from the doorway. He stood there, a thumb hooked through his belt loop, next to his silver belt buckle with the letter SCR in a circle, which Eric guessed stood for _Second Chances Ranch._

Dante chuckled and Billy rolled his eyes.

"C'mon, grandson," Grandpa Maddox said. "I'll introduce you to the rest of the boys."


	4. Chapter 4

Grandpa Maddox introduced Eric to the other seven boys who lived on the ranch, while Eric's father trailed behind them, looking like maybe he feared he'd made a bad decision to leave Eric with these riff raff.

The boys ranged in age from fourteen to seventeen, and they all looked a little rough around the edges. Eric tried to make a note of their names, but he wasn't sure he was going to remember them all. The only other white kid besides himself and Billy was a long-haired dirty blonde name Jackson, and Eric could probably manage to remember that. He wouldn't forget Tiny, either, a hefty, black eighteen-year-old with the build of a linebacker, or his younger, much smaller brother Sonny. But he was probably going to mix up Carlos, Javier, Juan, and Fernando.

They all had dinner together on that giant picnic bench of a kitchen table, which took up the whole long dining area. The food was served to them by the hired help, a plump, forty-something woman named Juanita. She stayed in the "guest house" (a small, two bedroom cottage about a half acre from the main house) with her husband Joe, who helped Grandpa Maddox train horses.

The table was boisterous, and Eric took it all in. He saw his father looking warily from boy to boy. There was a lot of talk and laughter and, once Juanita had retreated from the kitchen, bawdy humor of the sort Eric's own father ignored in the locker room but would have shut down immediately at his own dinner table. Eric's father raised an eyebrow and said, "Practically got your own football team here, Warren."

"We get a game going of a Sunday afternoon, from time to time, don't we boys?"

"We can do five on five now," Jackson said, nodding to Eric. "Without you having to risk throwing out your back, old man."

"Warren can finally referee fair and square," Dante said, "instead of always making calls in favor of his own team."

"Warren?" Eric's father asked, with the same surprise Eric had not voiced.

Grandpa Maddox ignored the question. "My son-in-law here's a fine football coach," he said. "Of a 5A high school. It's a shame he can't stay and train y'all up."

Eric's father shifted uncomfortably on the bench, as though he wasn't quite sure what to do about the unexpected compliment. "Well, sir, I'd love to," Coach Taylor replied, "but I do have a full-time job to return to."

"Ain't no high school football in January," Billy said.

"Well, I'm also the Athletic Director for the whole school," Coach Taylor answered. "I have to oversee all the sports. And there's spring training and coach's meetings and that sort of thing."

"What's that shit pay?" Tiny asked.

"Rephrase," Grandpa Maddox said simply.

"Sorry, I mean, is that a lucrative job, Coach Taylor," Tiny asked.

"It pays the mortgage," he replied.

After dinner, they all went outside to some kind of outdoor chapel for a Christmas Eve service. There were three rows and two columns of six wooden pews angled toward a cross. Grandpa Maddox led the prayers and gave a little talk about how they could all take the humility of Christ as an example. If God Himself could become a mewling infant lying in a feeding trow, well, then they could all probably manage to help one another with their menial chores around the ranch.

Christ was a carpenter, he reminded them, "a true working man, and there is no lack of dignity in hard work. We don't dirty ourselves with earth or paint or wood or manure. The only things that dirty us are the meanness and unkindness we show to one another, and that can be forgiven, forgotten, buried in the past as we walk forward in peace, putting off the old things and putting on the new." It all sounded like a lot of hooey to Eric, but no one appeared to be making fun. Billy was chewing on his thumbnail, and Dante was sitting with his elbows on his knees and his head bent forward.

After that little homily, they all sung Christmas carols. Dante played guitar, and Billy did some surprisingly good accompaniment with nothing but a pair of spoons. Tiny's voice was unexpectedly angelic. Next there was hot chocolate and a gift exchange in the living room, where Eric tore the green paper off a box from his Grandpa Maddox to find a pair of brand new cowboy boots.

"It's gonna hurt like hell breakin' 'em in," Billy told him. "But they's nice, ain't they?"

" _Aren't_ they?" Dante corrected him.

"Shut up, n -now why don't ya?"

Dante raised an eyebrow. "You almost slipped."

Billy looked hesitantly at Grandpa Maddox, who gave him a stern look but said nothing.

Dante was sitting on the floor near the tree, and he pushed Eric another box wrapped in red. "That's probably your cowboy hat."

It was two hours past the usual lights out time when Eric crawled onto the mattress of his new bed. His two roommates were snoring within minutes, but he lay staring up at the black wire of the mattress-less bunk above him for another hour, feeling alone and out of place, but also realizing, with a strange sense of emptiness, that for the past several months, he had been no less alone back "home" in Euless.

[*]

The following morning, on Christmas Day, Eric's father left after breakfast and asked him to walk out to the truck with him. "I know you hate me for this right now, Eric," he told him. "But I think this is best for you. You need….I don't know what you need, son. I just know I can't give it to you. I need to get my own head on straight right now. And your grandfather has a reputation for doing great work here on this ranch. We haven't always seen eye to eye, him and me, but I respect him. And I expect you to show him respect, too."

"Yes, sir," Eric muttered. The fire wasn't in him to be angry right now. He just felt...abandoned. He looked down at the new, brown leather cowboy boots on his feet. It was already sixty degrees, at 10 AM, on Christmas day. He couldn't imagine what the spring and summer were going to be like.

"Son…" His father sighed. It was a heavier sigh than Eric had ever heard from the man, and it made him look up. "Eric, I love you, son. And I'm doing this _because_ I love you. I just want you to become the man your mother always believed you'd be."

Eric bit down hard on his lower lip, until he could almost taste blood. He hated it when his father guilt-tripped him like that, but he could feel it, the shame, like a wave, tossing and turning in his stomach – _I've disappointed my mother. She would have been ashamed of me._ "Mhmh," Eric murmured.

"Did you hear anything I just said to you?"

"Yeah, Mom didn't want me to be the jerk-off I've become. I heard you. Enjoy your vacation without me getting in your hair." Eric turned and walked away. His father called his name, but when he didn't turn back, Coach Taylor didn't call it again.

Eric heard the truck roar to life and the rocky earth crunch beneath the tires.

[*]

There were no chores on Christmas Day. Grandpa Maddox showed him around the ranch, explained the ruled, and explained the chores. "But there's recreation, too," he promised him. "We work hard and we play hard. Wait until we all go to your first rodeo. And we'll take a shopping trip across the border to Matamoros one of these days."

"Sounds swell," Eric said.

"That tone's gonna have to go," Grandpa Maddox told him. "But it will."

"What am I doing here?" Eric asked him. "I'm not a juvenile delinquent."

"Neither are any of these boys. Anymore."

The worst was when Eric learned grandpa didn't own a television, explaining, "We don't get any reception out here."

"Ever hear of cable?" Eric asked him.

"Ever hear of throwing money down a drain?"

"What about Monday night football? The Superbowl!"

"We'll all go watch the super ball at the tavern. The other games you'll just have to do without."

"Un-fucking-believable," Eric muttered, to which his grandfather said, "Rephrase," and he asked, "What?"

"Rephrase that."

"Unbelievable," Eric said.

"Rephrase it again."

"I can't believe I can't even watch football?"

"Hmmm..." Grandpa Maddox mused. "And I can't believe a boy as talented and intelligent as you got in a car while drunk and jeopardized the life of his friends. But there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in our philosophies, Eric."

The last thing Grandpa Maddox showed him was his library, an entire room filled with floor to ceiling bookcases, four arm chairs, a coffee table, and a roll-top writing desk with chair. The cases looked handmade and built-in. Grandpa pulled a book off the shelf, something about grief, and handed it to Eric. "You have one week to read this and turn in a one-page book report."

"Are you serious? Why am I doing school work when I'm just going to have to repeat my junior year?"

"Every boy reads one book a week and writes one page. That's the deal. Twenty minutes of math a day, at your level. Get ya ahead for next year. I got all the books. Other than that, no schoolin', 'cept what you learn working on the ranch. And you'll learn more than you think."

Eric rolled his eyes but took the book. That afternoon, while the other boys played cards or read or slept or whatever they felt like, grandpa took him horseback riding. It took him awhile to get the hang of it, and he was grateful the man had taken him in private, because he might have embarrassed himself in front of the riff raff otherwise. At least by the end of the afternoon, he had some idea what to do.

Christmas dinner was simpler than Christmas Eve dinner, but it was good, especially the apple pie that topped it all off. That night, Eric started reading the book in the hour they had before lights out. Apparently, they had to be in their rooms at nine, even if lights out was at ten, and there was nothing else to do. Dante was already asleep, and Billy was reading the same book Eric had seen him with yesterday.

"Can't believe we have to read a book a week," he muttered.

"Ain't much," Billy replied. "Hell of a lot better here than at school, where ya got to put yer ass in a chair seven hours a day."

"So he assinged you _Of Mice and Men_?" Eric asked, nodding up at Billy's book.

"Nah, already finished my book for the week. Just wanted to read this. Ain't no TV."

[*]

The next morning, Eric awoke to the feel of his body hitting the floor. Billy stood at his head and Dante at his feet. Billy was grinning down on him while Dante merely looked peeved. They'd apparently drug him off the bed and dropped him on the floor.

"Rise and shine, city boy!" Billy yelled cheerfully. "Time to shovel shit!"

"Get dressed quickly," Dante insisted. "The whole room gets in trouble if one of us is late."

Eric rubbed the sleep dust from his eyes and pulled himself into a standing position. "In trouble how?"

"More chores."

"What is this," Eric asked, "a labor camp?"

"Get dressed," Dante repeated.

After an hour of mucking the stalls, and breathing in the fowl stench of manure, Eric cursed and threw his shovel against the wood wall of the barn. He stormed his way out of the barn and back toward the ranch house. He wasn't a slave. No way in hell his grandfather could make him keep doing this.

But it wasn't his grandfather who made him. He'd gotten no more than ten yards from the barn when Dante and Billy blocked his path. "Cain't be done already," Billy said.

"I'm done," Eric replied. "I'm done with this whole damn place."

Dante brought his short but muscular frame within an inch of Eric. "No, you're not. Now go on and do your chores."

Eric tried to walk around him, but he shifted to the left.

"Why are you trying to stop me?" Eric asked. "What's it to you?"

"Warren said it's our job to acclimate you," Dante replied.

"Acclimate me?"

"And if ya screw up," Billy added, "whole room loses privileges."

"What privileges?" Eric asked. "Nothing here is a privilege."

"Get to go to a movie on Friday evenings," Billy said. "Warren pays for the tickets and the popcron."

"Indoor pool on Saturday afternoon," Dante added. "Warren pays for admission."

"There's girls at the movies," Billy explained.

"And at the pool," Dante said.

"And it's the only time we so much as lay eyes on a pair of titties, other than the help's, and she's old." Billy took a menacing step forward. "So get back in that barn."

"So you're his enforcers?" Eric asked. "Why don't you just sneak out and do what you want anyway? Why are you so afraid of him?"

"We aren't afraid," Dante said.

"Ain't about fear," Billy agreed.

They didn't say anything else, but when Eric tried to get around them a second time, they moved to block him again. Finally, he sighed and returned to his chores.


	5. Chapter 5

Maybe Coach Taylor should have stayed at Second Chances Ranch for all of winter break, instead of riding off in the dust on Christmas morning, but he didn't feel quite welcome under his father-in-law's roof, even though there were no harsh words exchanged between them. Besides, it reminded him too much of those months in his youth when his eyes and his desire and his fascination had turned, bit by bit, to Ivy.

It was strange, being in the house without Eric, without the annoying sounds of 70s rock n' roll seeping from beneath the boy's bedroom door, sometimes turned up so loud as to rattle the frame; no one to wake early in the morning and force to run plays; no one to sit sullenly at the dinner table across from him after a perfunctory grace. Ivy had made them each say one thing they were thankful for every night as part of the grace, but the last few months, whenever Coach Taylor asked Eric to pray, he shot through, "Bless this food to the nourishment of our bodies, In Jesus name, Amen," like there was some kind of finish line he had to cross.

These days, Coach Taylor just said grace silently in his head, and he used the same hollow words, like a mantra without meaning. The food tasted bland. He'd learned to cook more than BBQ and pancakes, finally, in the wake of Ivy's death, but he never made anything quite like she had, and now that he was feeding only one, he'd stacked the freezer full of Hungry Man frozen dinners.

He went to the office every day, even though he had nothing much to do there, and even though the school was mostly empty. He reviewed the equipment orders twice, organized the file cabinet, double checked the school's eligibility for every sport, watched last football season's game tape, and put all the upcoming winter basketball games on the wall calendar.

He even went to the office on New Year's Day. When he returned home and stepped out of the pick-up onto the oil-stained cement of the carport, he noticed a teenage girl struggling with a box as she made her way from a U-haul truck down the beaten path in the grass that led to the front door of the recently sold house. He dropped his satchel and ran to help her, scooping the box effortlessly from her hands. "Let me get that," he said.

When she said "Thanks" and smiled, she reminded him instantly of Ivy the year he'd met her. She didn't look anything like Ivy, who had been dark haired and lightly tanned with hazel eyes you could melt into - the beautiful eyes Eric had inherited. This girl was a blue-eyed strawberry blonde, but it was the momentary, sheer genuineness of her smile that remind him of his young bride.

Coach Taylor followed her into the house and lay the box down on a dining room table. The legs of all the furniture were still wrapped. He patted the top of the box and was about to volunteer further help when a woman rounded the corner from the other side of the dining room and screamed. Coach Taylor took a startled step back.

The woman put a hand on her chest as though stilling palpitations and said, "Tami, what is a strange man doing in our house?"

The girl, who's genuine smile had since faded and been replaced by a bored mask, said, "He was helping with the box, Auntie. Obviously."

The woman, a striking red head with sparkling green eyes who appeared to be in her mid-thirties, looked like she'd just stepped off some kind of Scottish moor. She wore an ankle-length, pine green skirt and long-sleeve, white blouse, and for some reason, she, too, reminded Deacon of Ivy, though they looked nothing alike. He was trying to pinpoint what had reminded him, when he remembered the day Ivy had come out to the backyard, wearing a similar skirt, interrupting the plays he was running with a twelve-year-old Eric, and twirling across the dying fall grass, singing that the hills were alive with the sound of music. Eric, mortified by his mother, had run inside. "Got him to dinner fast," she'd said. "Now you're the only hold up." Deacon Taylor tossed the football aside, grabbed his wife by the waist, and pulled her to his chest, crushing his lips down on hers and then muttering, "Sorry, you can spank me later, sweetheart," and she'd laughed and said, "You'd like that, wouldn't you, you naughty boy," before squirming loose and running laughing into the house.

"Tami," the woman warned, holding up one finger. "You do not let strange men follow you into your house. If they offer to carry your boxes, you have them set them on the doorstep. You do not let them come inside. That can be a trick." She glanced at a black leather purse resting on the dining room table. "I'm five inches from that purse, mister," she said. "It has .22, and I know how to use it."

"Ma'am..." Deacon took off his coach's cap. "I'm just your next door neighbor. I saw her struggling with the box and volunteered to help."

Tami opened the box that was on the dining room table and began unpacking it. "Well Aunt Bonnie knows that the quiet, polite, helpful neighbor _always_ turns out to be the secret serial killer."

"I had a client once, Tami," Bonnie said, a sharp tone to her voice. "I _told_ you."

Tami shook her head and unwrapped a dinner plate.

Coach Taylor extended his hand to Bonnie. "Coach Deacon Taylor," he said.

"Oooh…." Tami cooed sarcastically as she reached into the box for another item, " _Coach_. He has a _title_ , Auntie. Aren't you impressed?"

Bonnie shook his hand and then raised that finger at Tami again. "This is the sort of the thing we talked about on the drive over. This is the sort of rude sarcasm that has to stop if you want to be rid of me and go back home."

"Who says I want to be rid of you?" Tami asked. "You aren't half as annoying as my mom is. I'm going to get another box."

Bonnie smiled apologetically when Tami brushed past Coach Taylor. "My niece," she said. "She almost dropped out of high school last semester, so my sister has sent her to live with me, straighten her out, you know. I'm a psychiatrist. Well, a psychologist. Okay, a counselor, actually."

"Uh-huh."

"And this is a good school district. That's why I bought this house. So I can enroll her at Bowie High and give her a chance at a good education. Frankly, they let far too much slide at her old school."

"I coach football there," Deacon replied.

"Don't judge my sister," Bonnie insisted suddenly.

"Ma'am, I don't even know your sister."

"I mean, for sending her daughter to live with me. She's got trouble with the younger one, too, but it's a different sort of trouble, and she can only handle one child right now. She just didn't know what to do with Tami."

"I know the feeling," Coach Taylor assured her.

Bonnie sighed. "Tami went from being a straight A student to nearly failing out. My sister doesn't know what's going on with her, but I aim to find out."

"Well, Bonnie," Coach Taylor said, having learned to remember names by inserting them early into conversation, "For someone who thought I might be wending my way into your house to attack you a moment ago, you sure are candid."

Bonnie let out a girlish, joyful laugh. "Well, I guess you're just too charming a sociopath."

Coach Taylor, holding his black cap by the bill, let it rest against his hip. "Did you really have a client who was a serial killer?"

"No, he was a serial rapist. He used to offer to help women carry groceries into their apartments when he saw them with their hands full."

"Oh. Well...I'm just your next-door neighbor."

"Doesn't preclude you form being a serial rapist," Tami said as she set another, smaller box down on the dining room table. She looked Coach Taylor up and down. "But if you're going to ravish us, could you at least help with the rest of the boxes first?"

"Tami!" Bonnie scolded.

Coach Taylor pressed his twitching, almost smiling lips into a stern line. He'd have been angry at that kind of sarcasm coming from his own son and directed at a stranger, but it was sort of amusing when someone _else's_ kid was doing it. He settled his cap back on his head. "Happy to oblige, Miss…."

"Hayes," Bonnie said. "We're both Hayes girls."

"Miss Hayes."

Halfway through the unloading of the truck, the ladies stopped assisting him altogether and began unpacking instead. He settled the last box on the kitchen counter, where Bonnie was unwrapping and putting away glasses, and said, "That's it."

"Can I offer you a glass of water?" she asked, and tilted the glass in her hand back and forth.

"I am thirsty, ma'am."

She rinsed the glass out in the kitchen sink, turned the tap all the way to cold, filled it, and handed it to him. "You can drink the tap water here, right?"

"Yes, ma'am, it's good. Not like south Texas. Where y'all from?"

"Tami's from Houston. I'm from three towns south, but I was renting, so the move was easy for me. Now that I'm farther north, I'm looking forward to seeing the big city."

"Which one?" Coach Taylor asked, and was momentarily surprised by the sheer normalcy of the conversation, the friendliness of it all, the lack of a necessary purpose and drive. He'd spoken so little to people since Ivy died, unless it pertained to football or other matters of business, that something as ordinary as this exchange struck him as abnormally pleasant. "Fort Worth or Dallas?"

"Well isn't Dallas the bigger city?" Bonnie asked.

"It is, but Fort Worth is more Texan. And it has a huge honky tonk. Maybe I can take you line dancing there one night." What the hell had he just said? Had he just offered to take this woman line dancing? "I mean, you and your husband."

"Subtle," said Tami, entering the kitchen from behind Bonnie and grabbing herself a glass for water.

"This is the sort of behavior we talked about," Bonnie reminded her. "Making situations awkward by pointing out the ulterior motives in people's words."

"Well, you just made it even more awkward, Auntie. Look at how red his cheeks are now." Tami flipped on the faucet. The water pooled into the glass, and the faucet squeaked when she turned it off. She took a sip and said, "My aunt's not married. If she was, I don't think her husband would leave us to move all these boxes by ourselves on New Year's Day."

"Tami, you never tell a man you're living alone in a house."

"You don't think he would figure it out pretty quickly when he didn't see anyone else here? You don't think he's already figured it out, and that's why he asked you to the honky tonk?"

"I wasn't…I didn't…." Coach Taylor stuttered, "I wasn't asking her to the honky tonk."

"Then what were you asking her?" Tami asked.

"I was just offering…you know…new and…." He swallowed.

"Oh. _You're_ married," Tami said looking at his wedding ring.

Deacon turned the ring on his finger. "I was."

"Separated or divorced?" Tami asked. "My parents are divorced, and I haven't heard from my dad in over two years, but he took his wedding ring off even before he took off on us, so I'm guessing you're just separated."

"Widowed," he said.

The teenager's face suddenly transformed from a sort of mild, self-assured disdain to a look of sincere compassion. "I'm so sorry," she said.

"It was a little over a year ago. She died. Car crash. A truck driver. He was asleep at the wheel." He always liked to get that out. People were curious. They wanted to know _how_. He didn't want to be asked.

"Y'all have any kids?" Tami asked.

"We have a son. Had a son. I mean, _I_ _have_ a son. He's about your age. He's with his grandfather in Weslaco for the semester. He'll be back in August. He'll be a junior then." _Again._

"So will I," Tami said.

"Assuming you buckle down and pull up those grades and pass this year," her Aunt clarified. "Which you better. Because, trust me, you don't want to turn 18 your _junior_ year."

"Maybe we'll have some classes together," Tami told Coach Taylor.

"Oh!" Bonnie exclaimed. "Maybe he can be your pen pal!" She turned her attention to Coach Taylor. "Tami just got a list of her semester projects. For sophomore English, she has to choose a pen pal and write at least ten letters to him or her."

"It has to be someone at least 300 miles away," Tami clarified. "How far is Weslaco?"

"Almost 500 miles," Coach Taylor answered.

"Perfect!" Bonnie clapped her hands together. "You can get started on that one right away, Tami. Knock at least one project out of the park."

"The pen pal actually has to write back, Auntie," Tami told her. "You think some random guy on a ranch is going to write some girl he's never met?"

"I can call his grandfather and make sure he does," Coach Taylor said. "It would probably be a good exercise for him, anyway. He needs to keep his writing skills up to scratch while he's away." Deacon tipped his cap. "You ladies have a nice evening. Hope y'all settle in well."

He headed for the kitchen door.

"So what day and time?" Bonnie asked.

Coach Taylor turned. "What now?"

"When are you picking me up?" she asked.

"Ma'am?"

"For our line dancing date."

He thought he'd dodged that bullet. "Uh….oh. Um…."

"Saturday night?" Bonnie asked. "7:30? Because Tami's going to be studying, aren't you honey?"

"Oh yeah, like a study animal."

"Um…a'right," Coach Taylor muttered.

"Should I eat first," Bonnie asked, "or are you taking me to dinner?"

"We could…uh…um…we could eat there. At the honky tonk."

"Sounds romantic," Tami said, and set her glass in the sink with a clink.

"They have good barbecue," Coach Taylor explained, a little peeved.

"See you then," Bonnie said, but before Coach Taylor could flee, she called, "Wait! Change of plans. _I'll_ pick _you_ up. We're taking my car."

"Uh...a'right."

"Tami," Bonnie addressed her niece, "never let a man drive you on the first date. That way, if he tries to get fresh with you when you don't want him to, you've got an exit vehicle. You don't have to rely on him for a ride."

"You hear that?" Tami asked, looking at Coach Taylor with an amused, almost sympathetic smile. "Don't get fresh with my aunt, or she's going to desert you in the middle of Fort Worth with no car."

Wide-eyed, Coach Taylor quickly opened the kitchen door and made his getaway, wondering how the hell he'd managed to make a date with a crazy woman while simultaneously committing his son to becoming the pen pal of her dangerously pretty, near-dropout, smart ass niece.


	6. Chapter 6

Tami stood in the doorway to her aunt's bedroom and watched her put up her red hair. "You should wear it down," Tami said. "Guys like that better."

Aunt Bonnie lay her brush on the vanity. "You would know, wouldn't you?"

" _Ouch_ , Auntie."

"You knew we were going to talk about this sooner or later."

"But now?" Tami asked. "Five minutes before your big date?"

Aunt Bonnie stood up and turned around. She had a jean skirt on that came to just above her knees and a silky, pale pink blouse that showed off her cleavage because she left the top two buttons undone. Her brown, snakeskin cowgirl boots rose to just below her bare knees. She slid her cowgirl hat on her head. "Perfect time to talk about it. Then you won't have time to argue or fight with me."

Tami rolled her eyes and walked away, but her aunt followed her and trapped her in the kitchen.

"Tami, you should know that guys only want one thing from you."

"Is that why you're going out with Coach Taylor tonight?" Tami asked.

Bonnie pointed a finger sharply at her. "You're sixteen. You should not be having sex. At all. And if you _have_ had sex," she looked at Tami knowingly, "you should know that doesn't mean you have to have it with the next boy you date."

Did Aunt Bonnie know about that boy at the party, the one she regretted? In the absence of her father, who had hardly been heard from since the divorce, Tami had perhaps been looking for male attention. At least, that would be Aunt Bonnie's analysis, and maybe she'd be right. Tami had naively thought she meant something to the guy, even though she barely knew him. He was older, charming, attractive. He said all the right words. And he played _guitar_. But the next morning, in the school hallways, he acted like they'd never met. She'd cried herself to sleep that night, and then the next. And the next.

Tami swallowed and cast her eyes down at the brownish red tile of the kitchen floor.

"Right now, you should be concentrating on your school work," her aunt said, "making friends, and having fun with some kind of extracurricular. But not cheerleading. _Please_ not cheerleading."

Tami looked up, brow furrowed. " _You_ were a cheerleader."

"I know. That's why I advise against it. You're constantly getting hit on. You don't need that right now. You need to concentrate on _you_. In fact, no dating."

"What? That's insane."

Aunt Bonnie threw up a hand, "Okay, you're right. That's probably not going to work. How about this? We put some rules in place. No staying out past ten. No parties with alcohol. And if a boy is taking you out, he picks you up here and meets me first."

Tami crossed her arms over her chest. "I thought you told me never to let a boy drive on the first date."

Aunt Bonnie grabbed her purse. "So I did." She sighed. "Well, I don't know. We'll figure it out. But just know I'm not your mother, Tami. She's super strict and she's got all those _rules_ , but she's _clueless_ when it comes to what her girls are really up to. I may _look_ dumb to you, but I'm _not_ dumb. I know more than you think I do. And I _will_ know what you're up to. I'll try to make reasonable rules. More reasonable than your mother. But only so long as you _respect_ them."

"And if I don't?" Tami asked, not trying to sound snide, but honestly curious. It was hard to imagine Aunt Bonnie - who was the polar opposite of her own mother in personality - being severe.

"Well, then, I send you back to your mother. And you'll have to go back to that school and see that boy who broke your heart, and all those girls who laughed at you in the hallways afterward."

Tami's mouth fell open. "How did you - "

"-I didn't _know_. I _guessed_. Because I've been there myself. I made the same stupid mistakes as a girl. But there was no one to pick up the pieces for me afterward. Your mother had already graduated high school and was out of the house by then. So I want to be here, Tami, to pick up the pieces for you. Because I'm your aunt, and I love you." She glanced at her watch. "But I've got to go meet a totally hot guy right now."

Tami laughed to see her aunt's twinkling eyes. Aunt Bonnie was so erratic. Sensible and thoughtful one moment and like a silly girl the next. "Well don't let him get fresh with you," Tami teased.

"Be good while I'm gone," Bonnie told her. Tami wasn't sure how she could possibly get into trouble. The second semester of school hadn't started yet. They were still on winter break. She hadn't made a single friend. "And write that letter to Coach Taylor's son. Get that penpal project started. Knock at least one thing out."

"Fine," Tami muttered, though she had no desire to write some strange boy.

The kitchen door rattled lightly in the frame as Aunt Bonnie left.

[*]

Coach Taylor ran his hand over his hair one more time to try to flatten that cowlick that always threatened to rise up in the back. He peered out the kitchen window and then glanced at his watch. She was late.

Maybe she'd been joking with him. Maybe they weren't going to be any line dancing at Billy Bob's after all. And maybe that was for the best. Because if they _were_ going out, then this would be his first date in over twenty years. The dating world had probably changed quite a bit in twenty years. He didn't know what the hell to do. Besides, he hardly knew her. He'd just met her, and she talked a little too freely. He didn't like talky women.

But damn she was pretty. It was hard to ignore that. She was...Oh, damn, was she pretty, walking up his driveway right now, that skirt tight against her skin, the blouse a little bit open, just enough…hips swaying. And that hat. _Damn_. He'd always been a sucker for a girl in a cowboy hat and boots.

He ducked away from the window. He didn't want to appear to have been waiting and watching.

When she knocked, he opened the door and said, "You're late." He hadn't meant to say it, but it just rolled off his coach's tongue naturally.

She glanced at her watch. "It's 6:50."

"You said 6:45."

"Oh, I forgot I was dating a football coach. I guess five minutes early is late with you."

 _Dating?_ They were going on **_a_** date. They weren't _dating._ What the hell had he gotten himself into with this woman? "Mhmhm," he murmured noncommittally as he stepped out onto the carport.

They walked to her truck in her driveway. Was he supposed to open the door for her? She was driving, and he didn't have the keys, so he supposed he couldn't. Did men even do that anymore? He didn't know. In the end, he just stood there awkwardly.

She unlocked and opened the front door of her pick-up - it was a huge, dirt-coated pick-up, a _man's_ pick-up - and then climbed inside. He walked around to the passenger's seat and waited for her to lean over and unlock his door for him. When he climbed inside, she asked, "Where's your cowboy hat?"

"I don't own one."

The truck roared mightily and then leveled into a purr. Bonnie began to back out. "Why not?"

"Because I'm not a cowboy. Anymore."

Bonnie smiled. Her beautiful green eyes lit up. "You were a _cowboy_?"

"Well," he smiled, a little pleased to have so easily impressed, "a ranch hand. When I was younger. Years ago. It's how I met my wife." Oh hell. He shouldn't be mentioning his wife on a date, should he? That had probably just killed the mood.

But Bonnie didn't make him feel at all awkward. In fact, she didn't miss a beat. "Was she a ranch hand, too?"

"No, her father owned the ranch. But she knew how to do everything a ranch hand does. And more."

"How long were you married?" she asked.

As Bonnie drove toward Fort Worth, Coach Taylor began to talk about the love of his life.

[*]

Dear Eric Taylor,

I don't know if your dad told you this yet or not, but he's going to make you be my pen pal. Sorry about that. You're probably not looking for extra homework while you're doing whatever you're doing on that ranch.

Why did you get sent to that ranch, anyway? I got sent to live with my aunt because I almost flunked out last semester. I'm a sophomore. Also, I think my mom has just been stressed to the max since my dad left us. She's started acting a little crazy, and I probably need a break from her. We're not exactly getting a long, not like she gets along with my teacher's pet of a little sister. Shelley's 12. Just wait until she hits high school, though. I bet she's going to be worse trouble than me. I don't guess you have any siblings? Your dad didn't mention any.

My dad pays child support, but not much. So my mom had to go back to work, and she doesn't really have any skills. She never went to college. So she's been waiting tables at night and working as a receptionist during the day. It hasn't been easy for her, and I guess I didn't help by being a stereotypical troubled teenage girl. Not that I'm that bad. Really, I'm not. Not as bad as YOU, apparently. I mean, you got sent to a RANCH. Isn't that where they send the ones that really need straightening out? What did you DO exactly?

I guess we're going to be next-door neighbors if they ever let you out of that place, so, when you do move back to Euless, don't mention to anyone anything I say in these letters, or I will have no choice but to end you. Is this not the dumbest English project you have ever heard of? What's the point? I suppose I could have written "All work and no play makes Tami a dull girl" 200 times and sent it to you for all the teacher will know. No one will read your letters but me, just so you know. I just have to show the teacher the envelopes and have my aunt sign off that I did the project. She doesn't actually read our letters. But write back something interesting anyway, because I'm bored here. But if you can't write something interesting, at least write SOMETHING. I don't get credit if you don't write back.

Here's something you can write about - The break ends and school starts Monday. So give me the 411. Who do I need to avoid? Who's cool? What teachers rock? Which ones suck? Any school traditions I should know about? What are the hang-outs around here? What's fun to do?

By the way, I don't know if your dad told you or not, but he's taking my Aunt Bonnie line dancing tonight. Or maybe she's taking him. It's hard to say. God knows she's in charge anyway, whatever happens. She thinks your dad is "totally hot." Her words, not mine.

Do you look like your dad?

Sincerely,

Tami Hayes


	7. Chapter 7

As Coach Taylor approached the Hayes house with a record tucked under his arm, he saw Tami slip an envelope into the mailbox and put up the flag. "Morning, Coach Taylor," she said as he slowed to a stop near the curb. "I was just mailing that letter to your son."

"Good. If he doesn't write back, you let me know, and I'll make sure he does." If the boy ever returned his calls, that was. Since returning to Euless, Coach Taylor had been communicating entirely through Warren, who claimed the boy was doing well, fulfilling his chores, keeping his nose clean, and settling in well with the other boys. If anything good came out of this, he supposed, it might be a better relationship with his father-in-law. Or a relationship period. Ivy would have been glad to see them working together for Eric's sake.

"Thanks," Tami replied. "Headed to work?" She had a backpack on her left shoulder and looked ready to head to school herself. It was only a half mile walk.

He nodded. "In a few. Are you leaving this early?"

"I have to get my schedule and walk the halls and learn where everything is. Figured I'd give myself some time."

"Well, you have any trouble, let me know, I'll get one of my boys to show you around."

She thanked him and headed off across the street. He went on to her front door and rang the bell. Bonnie, clipping a long, green earring on her right ear, answered. He held out the record. "Roger Miller," he said. "You liked that fellow who opened at Billy Bob's Saturday night, and he reminded me of Roger Miller so...thought you might like it."

She took the record from him. "Never heard of him."

"Really?"

"I'll have to unpack my old player and dust it off to give this a listen." She put the record down inside somewhere, but she didn't invite him in. In fact, she checked her watch, as if she was in a hurry.

He better make this quick. "Listen...uh...I want to apologize. Saturday night...That was probably the worst date you've ever been on."

He'd talked about his late wife almost the entire time when they weren't dancing. He hadn't _planned_ to, but Bonnie had _let_ him, and he hadn't been able to talk about her with anyone before now. In the beginning, people always looked nervous or worried when he mentioned Ivy, like they were afraid he was going to break down, so he'd stopped mentioning her, and then he'd thrown himself into his work to try to stop _thinking_ about her. Head down, he had pressed on. But Bonnie hadn't seemed the least bit uneasy. She'd even asked questions. And the memories had just poured out, like a flood.

"The barbecue wasn't that bad," she said. "It was average. And you know I loved the opening act. And line dancing is loads of fun."

"I meant the company. But I'm hoping you'll give me a second chance to make a better impression."

She smiled, a little sadly. "Deacon, it's fine that you want to talk about your wife. It's perfectly normal. You were married to her over half your life. But I think maybe you're not ready to date. So if you want to just hang out with me sometime, talk about her, I'm happy to learn about her. Really. But you don't have to take me out."

"Umm..."

"My fee is $50 an hour."

"Oh."

She laughed and patted his shoulder playfully. "I'm _kidding_ you. We're neighbors. No reason we can't be friends."

He smiled, a bit hesitantly. The thing was, he thought maybe he _wanted_ to take her out. She was pretty. And interesting. She wasn't like any woman he knew at work, and he knew lots of women at work. That's what happened when you worked in a school. Bonnie was smart, but not in an obvious kind of way. And she was incredibly lively. Her liveliness made him feel a strange sense of discomfort and amusement, a not entirely unpleasant feeling he wouldn't mind recreating. "Okay then. Well..." He took a step back. "Hope you enjoy the record." He tipped his coach's hat to her and made his getaway.

[*]

School would be re-starting back in Euless today, and Eric was surprised to find he didn't entirely wish himself there. He didn't really want to sit through lectures where his mind would drift to painful memories of his mother or go to weekend parties and pretend he was enjoying them when, really, there was a yawning emptiness inside of him and a vague sense that he was playing a role, and playing it bigger and bigger every day to convince everyone he was fine.

Here, the work was a better distraction, and there was no one to pretend for. The other boys didn't expect him to be content with his life back home. None of them were with their own. And yet, for all their differences, there was something genuine in the comradery they shared, and after long hours of work on the ranch, the play actually _meant_ something, even if it was as simple as a card game or a scrimmage, even if there were no girls to fool around with and no beer to drink. Eric didn't need bigger and bigger here, because when he was exhausted from mucking stalls and tossing hay and milking cows, and he finally had an hour to relax, the simplest things felt good and fun.

After a week and a half on the ranch, Eric had come to understand what Dante meant when he said they weren't _afraid_ of Warren Maddox. These boys didn't fear Grandpa, they _respected_ him.

Eric didn't come from the kind of broken, often addicted homes they'd come from - worlds of neglect and abuse. He thought his father criticized him too much, and he was still angry with the man for abandoning him here, but when Billy told him his own pa started calling him "a no good worthless lazy ass piece of shit" when Billy was just four, it made his own father's correction seem somewhat more mild and appropriate.

Grandpa Maddox never criticized the boys. He found things to complement them for, and he did it frequently, but he did mete out losses of privilege and extra chores for violations of his clearly stated rules. He played football with them, and also soccer – which Javier (Eric knew which boy was which, now) insisted on _also_ calling football. After dinner - which was some of the best, freshest, straight-off-the-ranch food Eric had ever eaten – Grandpa Maddox would tell them funny stories about his own unsupervised and sometimes risky youth that had them all - Eric included - rolling with laughter.

Grandpa had intentionally roomed boys together he hadn't expected to get along, applied the discipline for the infraction of an individual to the room as a whole, and somehow made them a team. Dante and Billy fought often enough, but they never got physical, and sometimes when they got loud, they'd stop suddenly and grow quiet, listening for Grandpa Maddox. Then one or the other would apologize and they'd go back to their bunks or their chores.

Eric liked Dante best of all of the boys. He was a good center for their little makeshift football team, which played 5 on 5, and he was the most articulate of the boys. Eric felt most comfortable with him, because he didn't seem to belong to a rough and tumble world, though in fact he had. One day Eric asked him how he could tolerate Billy, let alone get along so well with him most of the time, given how racist the guy was.

"Billy is a product of his environment," Dante told Eric. "His parents are probably racist, and part of him is too. But, you know, he's got my back here. Because this is a _new_ environment."

"If you say so."

"First book Warren made me read was _Up from Slavery_ ," Dante told him. "He highlighted some things. One of the lines I think he wanted me to notice was when Booker T. Washington said - " He amazed Eric by reciting the passage word-for-word, "I early learned that it is a hard matter to convert an individual by abusing him, and that this is more often accomplished by giving credit for all the praiseworthy actions performed than by calling attention alone to all the evil done."

"What was the first book my grandpa gave Billy?"

" _The Autobiography of Malcolm X_. Which he refused to read at first...but then he got into it. He could relate to what Malcolm said, about life being a hustle. He could relate a lot, actually, to being on the bottom. He grew up poorer than I did. You know, he didn't even have running water where he lived."

The first book Grandpa had assigned Eric was _A Grief Observed_ , by C.S. Lewis. It was the journal of a man who had lost his wife. "I lost my mom, not my wife," Eric told him, and Grandpa had said, "But you aren't the only one who lost something. Your father lost his wife. Maybe you ought to have some inkling what that's like."

Eric would hike out to a quiet spot on the ranch and settle beneath the shade of one of the few trees to read the book, because sometimes it made him feel like crying. He didn't cry, but he was afraid he might, and damn if he was going to do it in front of any of these boys.

[*]

In the mid-afternoon, during what was called "the siesta," when the boys had an hour to drink sweet tea and relax wherever and however they chose, mail was distributed. On Tuesday, Eric received two letters. One was yet another from his father - cool and formal and recounting mundane events relating largely to his job and the upkeep of the house. Like the last two, it concluded with the wish that Eric would come to realize he was only trying to help the boy. And as with the last two, Eric did not reply.

The second letter was from a cheerleader he had dated briefly, and who was apparently under the impression that they were boyfriend and girlfriend, even though Eric had already been with two other girls since he'd last gone out with her. He supposed she'd gotten the address from his father.

Though he didn't reply to his father's letter, he replied to the girl's. He was less callous than he might have been several days ago, and, as gently as he knew how, he told her that she was a great girl, and he'd had a great time, but he wasn't in a good place to be in a relationship right now, and she deserved more, and she should probably stop writing him and concentrate on finding another boyfriend.

That night, he was fading off to sleep when Billy and Dante began arguing about the division of tomorrow's chores.

Billy said, "Predictable. Ya's lazy."

Dante replied, "That fits your stereotype, does it?"

"Ain't got nothin' to do with stereotypes. It's just a fact that I end up doin' most of the back breakin' shit," Billy muttered. "I don't hate black people ya know. I just hate ni -" He stopped himself. "Ya know."

"I don't hate white people, you know," Dante told Billy. "I just hate _trash_."

Eric turned to the wall, hoping he didn't get dragged into the exchange.

"Ya sayin' I'm trash?"

"Being trash is a choice," Dante told him.

Billy rolled on his side and the top bunk creaked. Eric anticipated a serious blowout, but instead Billy just sounded thoughtful. "Used to be trash," he said. "Tryin' not to be. But what happens when we leave this ranch? Got to survive in the world's we's in."

"I'm not going back home," Dante replied. "Warren said I can stay on after my time is up if I want, work here in exchange for room and board and for tuition at UT-Brownsville. Bet he'd let you do it, too."

"I ain't gettin' into no UT-Brownsville."

"It's really not hard to get into. It's not exactly Yale."

"Dropped out of high school already," Billy told him.

"Then I bet Warren would let you stay and work until you get your GED and find a better job."

"Ain't gonna pass the GED."

"You aren't dumb," Dante told him. "I've seen the books you read. By choice."

"Hey, did ya get that girl's number at the indoor pool on Saturday?" Billy asked.

"Why do you always change the subject when someone tells you you aren't as dumb as you think you are?"

"Did ya get it or not?"

"I got it," Eric said. He rolled out of bed and pulled his jeans out from underneath his bunk and dug out the slip of paper. "One of you want it? I'm not interested." She'd come on a little too strongly for his tastes. He was getting tired of easy girls. He'd gone down that road after his mom died, and it hadn't done a damn thing to kill the pain. Now he just felt a little empty inside, and part of him felt guilty, too. That little speech his father had given him about respecting girls lingered in his mind, no matter how often he tried to purge it. He _knew_ he should be more respectful, and that would probably be a lot easier if he started hanging out with girls _worth_ respecting.

"How in the hell did _you_ get it?" Dante asked.

"'Course Mr. All American got it," Billy said. "Look at the asshole."

"You want it?" Eric asked.

"Nah, I don't want it. She gave it to you. She don't want one of us callin' her up. Why don't _you_ want it? Ya already got a steady girl back home?"

"Yeah," Eric lied, because that way he wouldn't have to explain why he wasn't interested in the girl at the pool.

"Well what she don't know won't hurt her," Billy reasoned.

Eric dropped his pants and rolled back into bed.

"Now that's just a lie," Dante said. "Ignorance is _not_ bliss. I didn't know my father was addicted to drugs, but it sure hurt me anyway, when we lost the house."

"So you dealt 'em to get the house back?" Billy asked.

"That might not have been the wisest decision I ever made," Dante admitted.

Eric fell asleep that night, listening to them talk. The next morning, for the first time, he didn't wake up angry with his father. Instead, he woke up with tears in his eyes, from a dream of his mother pushing his two-year-old self on a swing. When he felt the wetness on his cheeks, he quickly pulled the sheet up to the tippy top of his head, before Dante or Billy could notice.

[*]

On Wednesday, when Grandpa distributed the mail, he slid a single envelope into Eric's hand. The return address, which was from Euless, had no name but indicated a girl's handwriting.

Eric went onto the back porch of the main house and settled into a rocking chair. He looked at the letter and sighed. Was his father giving out his address to _every_ girl he'd fooled around with in the past six months?

Then he noticed the address. It was on his _own_ street. Not only his own street, but the address was for the house right next to his. No one had lived in that house for months.

Curious, he quickly tore the letter open.


	8. Chapter 8

When Coach Taylor got home from work, Bonnie was leaning against his front door, the record in her hand. She smiled and held it out to him. "You were right. I do love Roger Miller."

"Keep it. I meant it as a gift."

She drew the record back. "Why have I never heard of him before?"

"I have no idea," Coach Taylor said. "You're just a whippersnapper, I guess."

She smiled. He thought she had a pretty smile, innocent and warm. "I'm not _that_ much younger than you. And it's not like he's dead yet. I just didn't grow up with that music. Actually, I didn't grow up with _any_ music other than hymns. My mother thought most music was of the devil. You can see why I had to become a psychologist. Well...a counselor."

"Why don't you just _become_ a psychologist so you can _call_ yourself one?" Coach Taylor asked.

"I'd have to go back to college and do another semester."

"So?"

"Bills to pay, you know." She nodded down at the record. "Are you one of those guys who hasn't come into the modern era? Do you even own a cassette player?"

"You know, cassette players are going to be going out of fashion soon."

Bonnie snorted. "What?"

"Haven't you seen the Compact Disc player?"

She titled her head at him and gave him a doubtful look. "Who's going to pay $800 for a machine so they can pay $25 for an album to play on it?"

"The price will come down eventually. Technology always does. Until then..." He tapped the slip cover over the Roger Miller record. "I'll stick to my record player."

"Well, I have an extensive tape collection, and I'm still going to be listening to those tapes when I'm eighty."

"You, uh...want to come in for a drink?" Coach Taylor made the offer tenuously.

"Thank you for the invite," she said, "but I have to meet a counseling client in fifteen minutes. Tami's going to have dinner ready for us when I get home. I'm making her pull her weight around the house."

"Good idea."

"How's your son?"

"Good," Coach Taylor lied. The truth was, he'd written Eric the day after Christmas, and the day after that, and the day after that, and he _still_ had not written back. Nor had his son returned any of his calls. He'd spoken with Warren about the boy three times, and that was still his only source of information at the moment.

"Well, see you around," Bonnie said, and waved her fingers in farewell before she began to walk past him.

"Hey," he called.

She turned.

"You...uh...why don't y'all come over for dinner tomorrow night? I'll grill out."

"Sounds good," she told him, "but Tami hit the ground running. She's already got a part in the winter musical. They're having their first rehearsal tomorrow, and it's extra long. They're ordering pizza."

"Drama, huh?"

"Yeah. Probably because I told her not to be a cheerleader."

"What's wrong with being a cheerleader?" he asked.

"Nothing. I just don't want her in with that crowd. Football players, you know."

Coach Taylor frowned. "I was a football player. I _coach_ football."

"And I'm sure you're great at it," she said, "but, come on, you know how those boys are."

"There are some good boys on my team. Finest boys you'll ever meet."

"I'm not insulting _you_ ," she insisted. "I'm not insulting _anyone_. I'm just trying to look out for my niece."

"What if I told you three of my players are going to be _in_ that musical?"

"Really?" Bonnie asked skeptically.

He nodded. "It's winter. They don't have football until spring training. And some of them have good voices."

"Where I grew up a football player wouldn't be caught dead in a musical."

"We live in interesting times," he said. He was enjoying the surprise on her face.

"Are they mostly...you know...bench warmers?"

"One's the first string quarterback who replaced my son when I took him off the team last season. Mo McArnold."

"Tami mentioned him. She _didn't_ mention he was in the musical, though." She sounded suspicious. "You had him show her around school on her first day, didn't you?"

"Yes. Now hold your horses for this..." He held out a hand and placed it gently on her shoulder as though to steady her. "But he also just got inducted into the National Honor Society."

"I didn't say football players couldn't be _smart_ ," she insisted. " _You're_ clearly no dummy."

He was surprised by the complement, if that's what it was, and his hand fall free. "Invitation still stands. For dinner tomorrow, I mean. Even if it's just you."

She smiled - he thought - hesitantly, and he wished he could take it back. She'd already made it clear she didn't want to date him, and that had probably sounded like a date request. "But you're probably busy."

"Not really," she said. "What should I bring?"

"Bottle of wine?" he suggested. He didn't even know if she drank wine. She'd had one beer at the Honky Tonk. One. And she'd insisted on paying half the check.

"Red or white?"

"I'm making steak."

"I'll bring red, then. See you at..."

"Six?"

"Six," she repeated. She waved with her fingers and sashayed off. It was a few second before he caught himself watching her and shuffled inside. The phone was ringing when he entered the house.

Coach Taylor picked it up in the kitchen. He'd barley said hello when Eric's young but strong voice burst over the line. "You're dating?"

"What?"

"Mom's not a year in her grave, and you're dating?"

"First of all, your mother died _over_ a year ago. Second of all, who told you I'm dating?"

"That crazy new neighbor girl you gave my address to!"

"Tami is not crazy. She seems perfectly stable to me. She could use a little self-discipline, and she could be more respectful to her elders, but she does not strike me as _crazy._ I took her aunt out once. That does _not_ mean I'm dating. And even if I were, you know, I don't think your mother would mind. I think she'd want me to...to get back out there."

"Back out there. She'd want you to _get back out there_. Where's _there?_ Who the hell is this woman?"

"Don't swear when you speak to me." Coach Taylor supposed Warren hadn't worked the disrespect out of him quite yet. "She's the neighbor. She's a counselor."

"Like at the high school?"

"No. She work's at the Women's Center."

Eric suddenly sounded a little less angry and a little more curious. "How old is she?"

"I don't know. It's not exactly polite to ask a woman that question. She's younger than me. Maybe by eight years, I'd guess."

"Robbing the cradle, are you?" his son spat.

"Eric - "

"- Is that why you really sent me away? Because I was throwing a monkey wrench in your love life?"

"Do you not recall driving while intoxicated? Do you not recall tearing up a corn field? Do you not recall appearing in court? Do you not recall the incidences of public intoxication that preceded your DUI conviction? Do you not recall any of that, son?"

On the other end of the line there was a heavy sigh.

"I am trying to do the right thing here, Eric. I know I haven't been an ideal father this past year. But I am _trying_."

"Pretty easy from a distance, huh?"

"Do you hate it there that much?"

There was a long silence on the other end of the line. "It's not quite as bad as I thought it was going to be." What Deacon Taylor heard was that Eric recognized he needed to be there. Somehow, on some level, he recognized he _needed_ it. But he wasn't going to admit that directly. Instead, Eric changed the subject. "Did you give out my address to Kimberly Cole?"

"She called the house asking for you. So, yeah, I gave it to her."

"Did you ever consider I didn't want her to have my address?"

"Did you ever consider that you can't deflower a girl and then just walk away from her without consequences? Without her expecting something of you?"

"I did not _deflower_ her, okay?" Eric said. Sometimes his voice could sound so much like a man's, and sometimes it could still sound like a whiny teenager's. "Kimberley was _far_ from being flowered when I went out with her."

Coach Taylor suppressed a laugh. He tried to sound sternly calm. "Well, the girl clearly likes you, and she clearly didn't mean much to you. In the future it would behoove you not to fool around with girls who don't mean anything to you."

"So does this counselor chick _mean_ something to you then?" Eric asked sarcastically.

Deacon could feel himself growing angry, but he fought back the instinctive reaction. Through clinched teeth, he said. "I told you. I've taken her out _once_. We haven't done anything. At all. Except talk. And eat. And dance." He waited for a long while, and when the silence persisted, he asked, "Eric?"

Very quietly, his son said, "Don't you miss Mom?"

The pain in his son's voice made him choke, because it was such a strange echo of his own. "Every day. You have no idea how much." Deacon slumped down in the chair by the kitchen desk and rested his hand on his forehead. "Why do you think I've been such a mess?"

"The only time you talk about her is to tell me how disappointed she'd be in me."

"I don't think that's true."

"It _is_ true," Eric muttered.

"Then I'm sorry. I don't know how you could have thought I don't miss your mother. She was my life. I've been just as rudderless without her as you've been. But I'm trying to get anchored. And Grandpa Maddox is trying to anchor you. That's what we're all trying to do here, son."

"A'ight." It was almost whisper, but Coach Taylor heard it nonetheless. "I gotta go, Dad. It's supper time."

"Eric," he called, afraid the boy was going to hang up without another word.

"What?"

"I..." He'd said he'd loved the boy when he dropped him off, and Eric had acted like he hadn't even spoken the words. He wasn't sure he could take that again. "I want you to write that girl back. She's trying to make a fresh start here, bring her grades up, and it's a school project."

"Guess it would also give you an in with her aunt, huh? To help her out?"

"Eric, that's not why - "

"- I gotta go." There was a click on the other end of the line.

Coach Taylor sighed and rubbed his forehead before letting the receiver drop into the cradle.


	9. Chapter 9

Tami had both dreaded and welcomed starting at a new school. She feared not fitting in, but she was also glad to have a chance to start over where nobody knew her, where rumors weren't circulating that she was the "easy" girl who had given it up to an older guy at a party.

Tami didn't dislike living with Aunt Bonnie nearly as much as she had hated living with her strict but ever-busy mother. When their father took off over two years ago, Mama had become bitter and angry, and sometimes Tami thought she took that anger out on her. She wasn't abusive, not physically, but she could be downright mean. There were times Tami had thought of saying, "I can see why Dad left you," but then she bit her tongue. Because of course Dad hadn't just left Mama. He'd left Shelley and Tami, too. He'd never been a very present father, but now Tami didn't even know where he lived. She felt orphaned. Aunt Bonnie took an interest in her – and annoying level of interest – but an interest nonetheless.

Aunt Bonnie's frankness and insistence on discussing everything openly made her uncomfortable at times – in fact, it could be downright _mortifying_ – but it also made her think, and, on some subconscious level, it reassured her that she was not alone. She could try to hide, of course, but Aunt Bonnie would barrel down her defenses.

So when she walked in the kitchen door today at 5:30 p.m., following an after-school rehearsal for the musical, and Aunt Bonnie pulled a lasagna out of the oven and asked, "Who was that boy who just dropped you off?" Tami ignored her instinct to reply, "None of your business."

Instead, she dropped her backpack on the kitchen floor in the area designated for shoes and coats and said, "Mo McArnold. He's a junior. He's in my choir class." Bowie High _required_ a fine arts elective. She couldn't play an instrument and didn't like to draw, so choir it was. The Intermediate Choir class contained a mix of sophomore and juniors, and one very good freshman. "And he's in the musical, so he just gave me a ride home after practice."

Normally she walked, but Mo had volunteered to drive her, claiming that "it looks like rain," even though the sky was as clear as a crystal ball. Though Tami could guess his motives were not entirely innocent and helpful, she had agreed. He'd shown her around school the first day and encouraged her to audition for the musical. He had a nice, pure signing voice. He talked a little too much, and a little too fast, and he seemed to have trouble staying still – something on his body was always bouncing - usually a knee - but he was cute.

"And he's also the quarterback of the Bowie Boars?" Aunt Bonnie asked with a raised eyebrow. "That's what Coach Taylor told me."

"You've been spending an awful lot of time with Coach Taylor lately." Tami thought that would deflect the conversation from Mo. If she didn't deflect it, Aunt Bonnie was going to pry, and then she'd have to tell her aunt that Mo had invited her to the winter dance, and she'd said, "You don't even know me really" and he'd said, "Well, I want to _get_ to know you" and she'd said, "I'll think about it." She liked Mo, but after being shrugged off by the older boy to whom she'd tossed away her virginity, she wasn't sure she trusted herself around boys. But she _did_ want to go to the dance. Still, thinking about dating Mo had made her think about what she'd thrown away, and that had made her feel a hollow ache in the pit of her stomach. She still felt it.

"Well, we're friends," answered Bonnie as she retrieved a spatula.

"Friends, huh? Is that why he was throwing that empty bottle of wine in the recycling the morning after he had you over for dinner? Because you shared a _friendly_ bottle of wine?"

"Yes, precisely."

Tami leaned her elbows on the counter and smirked. "And is that why he keeps bringing you records to listen to? Because he wants to be your _friend_?"

"That's exactly why he keeps bringing me records to listen to!"

"Auntie, I'm way younger than you, but even I'm not that naïve."

"There's really nothing going on between us," she insisted.

"So he's never tried to kiss you?"

"Not yet." Bonnie flushed. "I mean, no! He's not going to. We're just _friends_!"

Tami chuckled and said, "I'll set the table."

As Bonnie cut the lasagna with a spatula, she told her, "There's a letter for you on the coffee table from Second Chances Ranch in Weslaco. I'm betting it's your penpal."

After dinner, Tami settled into the corner of the couch to read her letter. She opened it expecting to find a forced, cursory reply that he'd been made to write by his father or grandfather. Instead, she found two handwritten pages covered front and back with a clear, crisp, black-ink cursive.

 _January 14, 1983_

 _Dear Tami Hayes,_

 _Why did I get sent to the ranch? Well it's an interesting story that involves the corruption of local authorities, a one-eyed man who walks with a limp, and the world's third most valuable emerald. I don't think I can trust you with the details just yet._

Tami burst out laughing and then covered her mouth, because she didn't want her aunt to overhear and ask her what was so funny. She read the first paragraph again and then continued the letter:

 _Sorry your dad took off on you. What an asshole. My mom died last year, but she didn't do it on purpose. She died a couple of weeks before Christmas. I'd already bought her a gift, just the day before. A pair of earrings. It's still sitting in my bottom desk drawer. I don't know why I kept it like that._

It was such a weird swing, to go from laughing to feeling her eyes moisten in an instant.

 _You said to write something interesting because you're bored. You think you're bored? Try living on a ranch in the middle of Nowhere, Texas with nothing but a bunch of misfit guys. No school, no Friday night lights, and not a girl in sight. And get this – NO TELEVISION._

 _My grandpa makes us work until we want to collapse. It's not that it's that many hours of work, it's just that it's physical, you know? At least our only school work is twenty minutes of math practice a day and reading one book a week. That's a lot of books. But I actually have a lot more free time than I expected, and it can get real boring real fast._

 _So I find ways to kill the time. I got a regular football thing going. We've got assigned teams and a game schedule and stats and everything now. My grandpa is the ref. I'm the captain of my team. And the quarterback. And the safety. And the punter. I play cards with the guys. I'm getting real good at Texas Hold 'Em. We bet with pebbles because grandpa won't allow us to gamble with money. Not that we have any money here. He buys all one movie ticket a week and two large popcorns to share. No soda, though. Just water out of the fountain. We go swimming at indoor pool on Sundays. I sleep more than I used to, and I read more than I used to. And now I'm even writing to some girl I've never even met. That's how BORED I am._

 _I'm going to trust you when you say no one actually sees these letters. Because if this letter ends up circulating around school, I'll have no choice but to – I'm going to quote you here – "end you."_

 _No, I don't have any other siblings. Not that got born anyway. Buy my mom named every single one of her miscarriages – Emma, Aaron, and Dallas. Wish I'd gotten Dallas. That's way cooler than Eric._

 _No, yours is not the dumbest English project I've ever heard of. Last semester, we had to break in small groups and edit a Shakespeare play down to 35 minutes and then perform it. Do you know how hard it is to cut a play down to 35 minutes? Me and my group felt like the teacher was just asking for it at that point, so we cut out lines in Hamlet in a way that made everything sound really sexually suggestive. The students were laughing from the first minute, but it took her awhile to catch on. Then she started turning red and looking mad but we kept going. She finally cut off our performance fifteen minutes in and sent my whole group to the principal's office._

Tami chuckled.

 _It wasn't my finest moment, but, in a way, it was. It took a lot of work to make sense of that play enough to cut it to make it sound so lewd. I now know Hamlet forward and backward._

 _I'd answer all your questions, but you'll probably have been in school two weeks by the time you get this. You already know which of your teachers suck and which don't. As for the cool kids – just ask who used to hang with Eric Taylor and you'll know who's cool._

 _Actually, don't. I was hanging with some real assholes my last semester in Euless. You know, only one guy from my team has called me since I got sent here? Mo McAronold. And that was to ask me questions about a couple of plays I used to run. I guess I wasn't as popular as I thought I was. Out of sight, out of mind. Not that guys are exactly chatty phone types to begin with. I just thought…I don't know what I thought._

 _As for hang outs – obviously the football games and football parties, but it's winter now so that's over. The basketball team has parties but I hear those are kind of lame. DQ is the place to go after school to hang but you have to buy something – at least a small Coke or something – or the manager will chase you off. There's a big winter dance almost everyone goes to. It's no Homecoming, but it's still kind of a thing. Then there's the Sadie Hawkins dance in March and prom in late April. We only have a senior prom, but sometimes seniors take juniors or sophomores._

 _Do I look like my dad? I don't know. People say I'm built like my dad, but I have my mom's eyes, nose, and smile._

 _So I think I answered all your questions. Now I've got one for you - how many times has my dad taken your aunt out now? What do they do? What does your aunt look like? Is she pretty? How young is she?_

 _Got to jet –_

 _Eric A. Taylor_

Maybe this ridiculous pen pal project was going to be more interesting than Tami had anticipated. She went to her room, grabbed a piece of notebook paper from her backpack, and began writing.


	10. Chapter 10

Coach Taylor sat with his feet up on the coffee table, a microwaved Hungry Man T.V. dinner on his lap, and the television on at a low hum. He'd stopped eating at the kitchen table. It felt awkward to sit at that four-person table alone, and the television was company of sorts. When he heard the rapping at the kitchen door, he put the half empty meal down and made his way there. He felt a strange but not unpleasant nervousness when he saw Bonnie's red hair through the window on the door.

Coach Taylor had enjoyed their conversation over wine the other night – he'd made an effort to ask about her interests and not talk quite so much about his late wife - and he hoped she might change her mind about this idea she seemed to have that he wasn't ready to date. He certainly wasn't ready to replace Ivy, but Bonnie was pretty, and he was a man, and it had been a long time since…well, he was trying not to think about that.

When he opened the door, the first words out of her mouth were, "I really need a man."

He smiled. "Is that so?"

"To kill a spider," she clarified.

"Oh."

"Would you?"

He stepped down onto the carport, closing the kitchen door behind himself. "I'm surprised at you, Bonnie. You seem so self-sufficient. I didn't think you needed a man for anything."

She smiled sheepishly and her green eyes sparkled. "Well, but, it's a _really_ big one."

It _was_ a really big one, and it was on the kitchen counter. Coach Taylor asked for a glass to trap it in so he could take it outside.

"Well I don't want an outdoor pet. Aren't you just going to smash it?"

"You don't want me to smash this kind," he assured her. "It probably has dozens of babies on its back. They'll go flying everywhere and start crawling all over the place."

"Ewww." She got him a glass. When the spider was set free in the back yard, she said, "I actually could use a man for something else, too."

He smiled and took a step closer. "Yeah? What's that?"

"You can fix a leaky faucet, right?"

He bit down on his sigh so that it sounded more like a "Mhmmm." He ran a hand across is mouth and said, "You got tools, or do I need to get mine?"

Two home repair tasks later, Bonnie offered him a beer, and they settled onto the couch in the living room. "Where's Tami?" he asked.

"Rehearsal again. Who knew high school theater was so demanding!"

"And they say I run _my_ boys too hard, just because I sometimes call them out for an extra emergency practice. You know, when she gets all the way to the dress rehearsal, those things can go to ten at night."

Bonnie sat sideways on the couch to face him. She'd already shed her shoes and socks, and now she pulled her legs up, bent, onto the couch. Her colorful, loose skirt came to just below her knees. She had shapely legs, though Coach Taylor tried not to look at them for more than second. Or two. Or six. "My niece got a really long letter from your son. Four pages, front and back. She wouldn't let me read it, but I was impressed he wrote that much. Thanks for making him do that."

"I didn't really make him. I figured he'd send a paragraph. Although…his mother was a writer. She had a few poems and short stories published in some outdoor living magazines. She was very talented with words." Damn. He was talking about Ivy again. "And Eric has a way with words," he hastened, "when he _wants_ to. He won an extemporaneous speech competition in junior high. But then…football got more demanding in high school, so he couldn't do the speech team anymore. But four pages…to a stranger. Hmmm." He sipped his beer. "He hardly ever says a word to _me._ "

"Why do you think that is?" Bonnie asked.

Coach Taylor shrugged. "I guess that's just the way it is between teenage boys and their fathers."

"Is that how it was with your father?"

He glanced down at the tan and white cloth cushions of the couch. "Should I be lying down on this couch? Should you have a notepad?"

She laughed. "I'm just curious."

"My father kicked me out of the house when I was sixteen. I had to make my own way after that."

"Why?" she asked with wide-eyed surprise.

"We were poor. We fought a lot. He drank a lot. I don't guess he kicked me out so much as _drove_ me out. I ended up living at my coach's house until I finished high school and went to college. Then I got injured and lost my football scholarship after a year, dropped out of college, went to work on Eric's grandfather's ranch. Stole his daughter out from under his nose, and…" Damn. He was talking about Ivy again. "Anyhow, here I am."

Bonnie slapped his knee lightly. It was something she did when they were sitting and talking and she had a sudden idea. "Hey, you ever think of writing Eric a letter? I mean, maybe that's the way he's most comfortable communicating. In writing."

"I've written him three letters. He hasn't answered a single one."

"Oh. Well, don't give up on him. Try calling him more often, maybe." She put a hand on his knee. "All you can do is keep trying."

Coach Taylor looked at her hand on his knee. Then he leaned in and kissed her. He liked the feel of her lips. Soft and warm and feminine.

But she didn't open them. Instead, Bonnie took her hand off his knee and pulled away.

"Sorry," he muttered. "I guess I misread...I just thought…."

"It's all right."

He stood up. "Thanks for the beer." He clunked the mostly empty bottle down on the end table.

"Deacon, listen - "

"I'll show myself out." He hastened to the front door and had his hand on the knob before she was off the couch.

[*]

Grandpa Maddox always distributed the mail during the afternoon siesta, because it came at noon. He extended an envelope to Eric. Eric recognized the address. Another letter from that new neighbor girl. He hiked out again to settle under his favorite mesquite tree to read it. There weren't many trees on the ranch, and he'd claimed this one as his own.

 _January 18, 1983_

 _Dear Eric A. Taylor,_

 _So what's the A stand for? Absalom? Agamemnon? Ahab? Aristotle? It must be something pretty fantastic since you felt the burning need to include the initial in your signature. Does it stand for Awesome?_

Eric felt a mixture of amusement and irritation at Tami's opening line. A small lizard scurried past his foot, paused, and looked up at him. "Isn't it a little cold for you to be out?" he asked it, and it ran off. It wasn't that cold, really. He had on a long-sleeve, flannel shirt, and that was enough. He'd expected January to be cooler. May, June, and July on the ranch were really going to suck. At least he'd be home in Euless by August for summer training.

He continued reading:

 _I'd tell you my middle name, but I don't have one. My mom once said that way I can make my maiden name my middle name when I get married, and I said, "Who says I'm ever getting married?" and she said, "Well, that's just what women do." I almost said, "Yeah, look how it turned out for you," but I bit my tongue. My aunt Bonnie's not married and she seems to have a perfectly happy life. She has her counseling job and gets to do whatever she wants without answering to anyone or anything. She plays recreational tennis and has her flower garden and always has guys wanting to go out with her. Of course, she also has this creepy neighbor on the other side of us - NOT your dad, the other guy - ogling her all the time, even though he's totally married and his wife is pregnant. What a jerk._

 _I'm sorry about your mom dying. She sounds like she was a real special woman. Your dad talks about her a lot, at least to my aunt._

What? His father talked about Mom a lot? Really? And to some random woman?

 _Sorry you have to do such hard work on the ranch, but I bet you stay in good shape that way. Plus you're probably learning real skills. Unlike what I'm learning in Biology this year which is a lot of stupid detail that I'm never, ever going to use in my actual life. I got a D in this class last semester, so I really need to study. I've been trying to study at rehearsals when I don't have to be on stage, but Mo McArnold keeps bugging me and interrupting me. Not that I really mind. I mean, he's kind of funny and cute. He asked me to the winter dance. Think I should say yes? Is he cool? You're friends, right? I mean, he's on the football team._

Eric was not close with Mo. He had no strong reason to dislike the guy, but he didn't really like him either. He just found Mo to be vaguely annoying, because he talked a lot. He had been an okay player, a decent back-up, but now he was filling Eric's shoes as the first-string quarterback. Mo had become a better player over the last few games of the last season, all of which Eric had been forced to watch from the bench. Eric was assuming that he would step back into the first-string position when he returned to Euless, but what if he didn't? What if Mo trained on his own and got really good between now and summer training?

 _I totally promise no one will see your letters. I don't want you showing mine around either. So it's sort of like a deterrent, you know, a policy of mutually assured destruction, which I'm learning about in Civics, by the way. I might not even have to worry about whether or not to go with Mo to the winter dance. We might have all gone up in a mushroom cloud of smoke by then. At least, that's what the Mrs. Hardy seems to be trying to convince us of._

 _Sorry to hear about your mom's miscarriages. My mom had one but it was probably for the best. She got pregnant right before my dad took off. That would have been super hard, a baby and me and my sister and not much money AND no dad. My dad didn't even send us a Christmas card last year. I'm not even sure he's alive. He was a truck driver, so, you know, I was used to not seeing him much. He was on the road all the time. But it's weird, him not even coming to visit. Ever. I know he was never the best dad, but I didn't know he didn't give even one tiny shit about me or my sister._

Eric shifted against the mesquite tree and coughed. Maybe it was the dust from the ground. Maybe it was the letter, but his eyes felt a little irritated.

 _I wish I could have seen your Sexy Hamlet play. I could use some comic relief in my English class. Talk about BORING. Mr. McMullen loves to hear himself talk, but half the time he doesn't even make any sense. I think he assigned this pen pal thing so he can claim he made us fulfill the district-wide writing requirement but then he doesn't have to read and grade papers._

 _Sorry your teammates forgot about you down there on that ranch. I'll kick Mo's ass and make him call you more often._

Shit, he didn't want Mo McArnold calling him on the phone.

 _So I tried out the happening DQ hang-out you suggested. Me and this other new girl Kimberly are kind of friends now, and we went there to get a chocolate dipped and check out the guys. Do you know if Shane O'Kelly has a girlfriend? Kimmy wants to know. I guess he's like a running back, or something?_

 _So, now to your questions. My aunt looks kind of like Marilyn Monroe, but with red hair instead of blonde and green eyes and her hair is longer and curlier. She's 35. Or maybe 36. She could be 34. I don't know exactly. How old is your dad? My aunt says they aren't dating. And it's true they haven't gone out-out since they went line dancing at Billy Bob's, but she's been to his house for dinner once and had him over here once for dinner and they sure do seem to hang out and talk a lot. Although I haven't seen him around in a couple of days, and lately he just walks by me really quickly in the halls, with his head bent down, instead of saying, "Hello, Miss Hayes." I kind of wonder if something happened between him and my aunt and he's embarrassed now. Pretty sure it wasn't S-E-X, though, because my aunt is always telling me never to have sex with a boy who isn't serious about me and who I haven't dated for at least 22 weeks. Don't ask where she got the 22. I have no earthly idea._

 _Okay, let me throw out some questions so you have something to write back about –_

 _1\. Favorite rock band._

 _2\. Favorite book._

 _3\. Favorite subject in school. BESIDES football or P.E._

 _4\. Favorite sport BESIDES football._

 _5\. Why did you REALLY get sent to the ranch?_

 _I expect every question to be answered in my next letter._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Tami No-Middle-Name Hayes_

Eric held the letter between his knees and watched his little lizard friend return and stare at him again. "Yeah, yeah," he told the lizard. "I'm gonna answer her damn questions."

The creature scurried away.


	11. Chapter 11

As Coach Taylor washed his dinner dishes, he calculated the cost of the new Bowie High baseball equipment in his head. The funds were insufficient. As Athletic Director, he was going to have to tell Coach Harris the team needed to do a fundraiser, and Coach Harris was going to claim football got preferential treatment, and then Coach Taylor was going to point out that football brought in three times as much money in ticket and concession sales, and around and around they'd go. The knock on the door was at first a welcome relief from this worry, until he saw Bonnie's head through the window. He'd been trying to avoid her ever since his failed pass.

Deacon switched off the water and made his slow, reluctant way to the door. When he opened it, his eyes fell to her steel-tipped cowgirl boots.

"Things have been awkward," she said. "I don't want them to be awkward."

Deacon rubbed his chin but didn't raise his eyes from the boots.

"Let me be frank. You tried to kiss me, I pulled away, now you're embarrassed and you're avoiding me. I don't like you avoiding me. I'd like us to be friends."

Deacon's feelings shifted from embarrassment to irritation. He finally looked up to meet her eyes. "Since you're being frank, may I?"

"Please."

"I'm a little confused by your signals."

"How so?" she asked, her green eyes searching his.

"First, you ask me to take you dancing - "

"- You asked me on that date," she interrupted him.

He thought about it. So he had. He hadn't meant to, and she'd ended up making the plans, but, technically, he _had_ been the one to say he'd take her to Billy Bob's. "And I know I wasn't the best date," he continued without acknowledging her point. "I understand that. But then you show up at my doorstep - "

"- To return a record you had lent me."

"And later you came to my house for dinner. And you brought wine."

"Because you invited me and _told_ me to bring wine."

That was also true. For some reason, he had it in his head that Bonnie had been pursuing him, but when she laid it out like that..."Well, but I thought you had a good time at that dinner."

"I _did_ have a good time," Bonnie said with a pleasant smile. "You grill an excellent steak."

"You talk to me every morning when we're heading out for work. You smile and laugh. And then you asked me to do things around your house, and you gave me a beer - "

"- A beer is not an open invitation to make out."

"You put a hand on my knee," he told her.

She nodded. "I did. I was trying to comfort you because you seemed upset about your son."

Deacon leaned against the door frame. "It's been a long time since I've done this. It's possible my judgment is rusty. But I really thought you were interested. You _seemed_ like you were."

"May I come in?"

He stepped back and gestured with his hand. She took a seat at the kitchen table and he closed the door behind her before sitting down at the table with her.

"I do like you, Deacon. You seem like a nice, stable guy. Steady job. Excellent manners. Articulate. You're probably fairly intelligent, too. And I'm not going to pretend you aren't handsome. Under other circumstances, I'd have responded to your advance in a heart beat. But I don't want to be that woman."

"What woman?"

"That stop gap woman. That one who fills a temporary void between your wife and whoever you end up marrying three to five years from now. I'm happy to be your friend. I just don't want to be _that_ woman. You're not as ready to move on as you imagine you are. And I just had a serious heart break not that long ago. I think I need to date casually for awhile."

"I'm...I'm very confused, Bonnie. You don't want to date me because you think it would only be temporary, but you think you need to date casually for awhile?"

Bonnie seemed to consider this. "It doesn't make much sense, does it?"

"No."

"Hmmm...It all made sense in my head before it came out of my mouth."

Deacon chuckled. He studied her. "Maybe _you're_ the one who's not ready to move on?"

"He really did a number on me," Bonnie admitted. "He asked me to marry him. I had the ring on my finger. I was about to call everyone and let them know when I found out he was cheating on me. I'm just glad I didn't go bragging about the engagement and then have to take it all back."

"Well, if you want someone to rebound off of, I'm your man. I can be as casual as you want. I'll make it easy for you to move on."

"No you won't," Bonnie said. "You're too much of a gentleman for that. You'll be respectful and courtly, and there's at least a 55% chance I'll end up falling in love with you. But there's a 95% chance I'll end up being the in-between woman, and I just don't want to risk another heart break right now. I'd rather date a man I know I have no chance of falling for."

"That's absurd."

"It makes sense to me."

"Where do you get these ridiculous percentages?" he asked.

"From experience. Both mine and that of my clients."

Deacon put his elbows on the table and rubbed his eyes. "Then why did you go out with me in the first place?"

"Because I assumed you were the sort of guy I'd have no chance of falling for. I mean, you're a football coach. And I don't even _watch_ sports."

"I thought you played tennis."

"I _play_ it. I don't _watch_ it. And I usually fall for younger, less reserved, more creative men."

"I'm creative. I create new football plays all the time."

"But then you were a good dancer," she continued, "and you didn't talk about football at all, and I had a better time than I expected. And then I had an even better time at dinner at your house."

"So date me," he said with exasperation. "Throw the dice. Take the gamble."

"I'm sorry, I can't. But I really hope we can keep being neighbors and friends. Can we?"

"Well, unless one of us moves, I think the neighbor part is inevitable."

"Can we be _friends_?" she asked.

He sighed. "If that's what you want."

"It's what I want."

He nodded. "Okay then. May I get you something to drink?"

"If I ask for a glass of wine, are you going to assume that means I'm asking for something else?"

"I'll get you the wine." He stood and pulled a bottle from a cupboard. "But I do want something in exchange."

"What's that?" Bonnie asked cautiously.

"I'm going to try calling my son tonight. I want your advice on how to talk to him."

[*]

Another week passed at Bowie High. Tami was growing very busy between her studies and preparation for the musical, so she was somewhat glad to find her aunt had a late counseling session when she got home from school on Friday. She wanted to decompress alone, without Aunt Bonnie chattering at her on and off all evening.

"There's leftovers in the fridge," Aunt Bonnie said as she double-checked the contents of her purse before heading out for her session.

"That's okay. Mo and I grabbed something at the DQ after rehersal."

"Oh. Are you two dating?"

"Not officially," Tami said.

"But unofficially?" Aunt Bonnie asked.

"I don't know. We're going to the winter dance next Saturday."

"Be careful, Tami. Don't - "

"- I know. I'm not rushing into sex again." Aunt Bonnie knew about the boy she'd lost her virginity to, even though not even Shelley knew that. Somehow, her aunt had needled the story out of her. "I promise. I've learned from that mistake."

Aunt Bonnie nodded. "Well, I should be back by nine. I think I saw a letter from your penpal in that pile of mail on the counter."

When Bonnie had closed the kitchen door, Tami eased the letter out from beneath her aunt's new _Reader's Digest_. She retreated to her bedroom, shut the door, and lay on her stomach across the pink, blue, and white quilted comforter that covered her bed. Shelley had made the comforter for her before she left, in her middle school quilting club.

Tami unfolded the two sheets of college-ruled notebook paper.

 _January 24, 1983_

 _Dear Tami Nameless Hayes,_

 _So, in other words, your aunt looks NOTHING like Marilyn Monroe? Because if what you described is "like Marilyn Monroe," then I must be the spitting image of Robert Redford._

 _The A doesn't stand for anything. It's just an A. Didn't see that one coming, did you?_

 _Do you think maybe you don't want to get married because your parents' marriage sucked? Because I'm pretty sure you can still garden and play tennis and be a counselor or whatever even if you're married. I've always assumed I'll get married one day. My parents seemed to like being married, and my dad really does NOT know how to live alone. He had to learn to cook after she died and didn't know what anything cost at the grocery store and just had to figure out a lot of stuff. I don't think he had any idea what to do with me, for one. So I figure a wife is nice to have, but I'm going to live on my own for awhile first. "Sow my wild oats," as my grandpa says, maybe get married when I'm like 30 and I have a good income._

 _By then, I should be playing professional football, or if I can't make it at that I'll be a sportscaster. I'm going to take Public Speaking when I repeat my junior year next year to help with that. Journalism, too. I'll probably be the sports editor for the newspaper. Athletics (football), of course. I can do all three electives now that they're adding that extra seventh period. Did you know they were doing that next year? They're going to take away our 15 minute break after third period, add 30 minutes to the school day, and shorten the passing time to 4 minutes. 4 minutes. You better run. The seniors are lucky. They'll get out before it all happens._

 _No offense, but your dad sounds like a real asshole. Sorry you got a dad like that. I used to think my dad was an asshole because he woke me up real early to run plays and stuff, and he's pretty demanding about football, and he sent me to this ranch. But I guess at least he never took off on me like your dad, or called me worthless shit like Billy's dad does, or beat me like Javier's dad did, or gambled away the life savings like Tiny's dad did, or anything like that. (Those are all guys at the ranch.) I actually talked to him on the phone yesterday and it was kind of cool. We didn't fight or anything. We talked about what we miss about my mom. Oh, and he said he's decided not to date your aunt, that he thinks it's better just to be friends. So I hope she's not too disappointed. I hope he let her down gently._

Tami laughed at these last few lines, because they did not at all match the version of events as her aunt had related them a few days ago.

 _About your teacher Mr. McMullen - yeah, he rambles. I had him for freshman English. Sniff his coffee cup sometime. Just do it. Did you know he used to be a Jesuit priest? He renounced his vows to get married. She left him five years later._

 _You should warn your friend that Shane O'Kelly's got the clap, but don't you DARE tell her you heard it from me. Just say you heard a rumor or something._

 _So the answers to your questions..._

 _1\. Favorite band? I don't know. I like Journey and the Stones and Van Halen. U2's good too._

 _2\. Favorite book? The Bible. Just kidding. I only said that so I don't get hit by a thunderbolt. Probably The Stand. Stephen King. I hear he's coming out with a new one soon about a car that murders people. I'm totally getting that._

 _3\. Favorite subject besides football? History I guess._

 _4\. Favorite sport besides football? There IS no sport besides football. But my mom used to follow baseball, so I did watch the Rangers with her sometimes. And apparently her dad - my Grandpa Maddox - played in the minor league for three years._

 _5\. You'd really like to know why I got sent here, wouldn't you? I'll keep you guessing._

 _Now some questions for you -_

 _1\. Favorite singer?_

 _2\. Favorite movie?_

 _3\. Where did you move from?_

 _4\. What do you look like?_

 _Sincerely,_

 _Eric Just-an-Initial Taylor_

Tami noticed that Eric didn't answer any of her questions about Mo McArnold. He didn't say a word about his fellow junior and teammate. What did that mean? She hoped he wasn't saying nothing because he had nothing good to say.

Tami rolled off her bed, hurried to her desk, and tore out two sheets of notebook paper.


	12. Chapter 12

Eric popped a slice of avocado in his mouth. There was always avocado on the kitchen counter at siesta, and it wasn't something he'd ever expected to eat by the slice before. He'd never had it any way except in guacamole. But it was becoming a habit of his, to eat it like candy.

Grandpa Maddox was distributing the mail. "And Billy," he said, handing a letter to Eric's roommate.

Billy took the letter and looked at with a crinkled brow. "Ain't no one ever writes me," he said. "What is it? Junk mail?"

"Eric has a pen pal," Grandpa said, "and I think it's been good for him, so I singed you and a couple of the other guys up for one, too. Dante, here's yours."

Dante took the letter and looked it over with curiosity.

Billy snorted. " _Pen pal_? What are we? In third grade?"

"Shut up," Dante muttered. "It's something to do. Just be grateful."

"There were several students at Bowie High who needed someone to write for a school project," Grandpa said. "I told my son-in-law Deacon he could give them some of your names. So now there are four of you will be getting letters. Javier, here's yours. This will be a good way to practice your written English."

The lean, dark skinned boy, who had been born in the U.S. but spent his life in and out of Mexico, grabbed the letter and also the plate of avocados before disappearing toward the living room.

"Pen pal," Billy said again with a snicker, but he tore open his letter awfully fast as he left the kitchen.

Grandpa Maddox handed Eric an envelope. He recognized the script immediately as being Tami's hand. He retreated to his mesquite tree, where he sat down on the cold, hard earth and snapped up his jean jacket. It had actually dropped down to 40 today, and his hands felt a little chilly as he read the letter.

 _January 28, 1983_

 _Dear Eric,_

 _I meant my aunt's beautiful and curvy like Marilyn Monroe and men fall all over themselves around her. Including your dad, by the way. SHE was the one who told him she just wanted to be friends, not him, at least according to her. He wanted to keep dating her._

Eric felt angry at his father for _wanting_ to date this woman, but then that anger gave way to slight amusement because his father had been shot down. Coach Taylor was a pretty confident man on the football field and in his marriage to Eric's mom. It would have been funny to see him humbled like that. He must have been really embarrassed given that he'd lied to cover it up. Eric's amusement shifted next to sympathy. He wouldn't want to be shot down like that himself. But then he thought about the fact that his father had lied, and his feelings returned to anger again.

Wanting to get off this roller-coaster ride of emotions, he shook the letter and shook his head, as if that could shake off all the feelings. Then he went back to reading:

 _Glad to hear you're getting along better with your dad. My aunt said she gave him some advice on how to talk to you on the phone, so I guess it worked?_

Eric didn't know what Tami meant. His father hadn't talked to him in any _particular_ way. He'd just...well, they'd talked a lot about Eric's mom the last two times he called. His dad shared a lot of funny stories with him, things he'd never known about Mom. And Eric had shared some stories back - things he and his mother had done together when his father was at away games or out of town or otherwise busy. They hadn't argued. They hadn't talked about Eric's past indiscretions or even how or what he was doing on the ranch. They'd just talked about mom.

 _She's a pretty good counselor, but_ _I wouldn't want to be a counselor. That just doesn't seem fun, dealing with messed up people and their messed up problems all day long. I think I want to be an actress, but, if I don't make it at that - maybe a school principal. They seem to make good money and get to boss everyone around, and when I'm principal, there will be NO 7-period day. 7_ _th_ _period will be party period for everyone._

 _My electives next year? I guess it'll depend where I end up going to school and what they offer. There's a chance I may go_ _back to live with my mom after this semester is over if I've pulled up my grades and got my "head back on right." I'm not sure I even want to move back, except that I miss my little sister Shelley and she really misses me. I won't have to go back to my old school, at least, because my Mom is moving someplace cheaper, some small town called Dillon. I don't want to move to yet another new place, but it's probably better than going back to my old school. I really embarrassed myself there. I don't want to face those people again._

 _I guess if you come back to Euless in August and I move back in with my mom in July, we may never meet in person. Maybe that's a good thing, given everything I've been telling you. But you'll meet my aunt. She bought the house here and has a job and likes it and everything, so she's staying. Wherever I end up, I'm trying out for the volleyball team next fall. I used to play in junior high and I was pretty good, but after my dad took off, I just quit. I don't know why. I was pretty depressed I guess. But my aunt is encouraging me to get back into it._

 _You know, if you sow your wild oats until you're thirty, all of the good women are going to be taken by the time you decide to get married. You're going to be scraping the bottom of the barrel. But I guess if you're in the NFL you can take your pick. Do you really think you have a chance of making it? No offense, but, like 1% of high school players get there, right? Why do you want to be a sportscaster? When your dad was over for dinner yesterday he told my aunt you're not much of a talker. Why not just be a coach like your own dad?_

 _You're right. My dad is an asshole. I don't know why I sometimes blame my mom for pushing him away. I mean, why wouldn't she have pushed him away? He's the kind of asshole who doesn't even visit his kids once he's divorced. I bet she put up with more than I realized for longer than I realized just to keep our dad in our lives, on and off._ _Your dad doesn't seem anything like an asshole to me, though. He seems pretty nice. He fixes stuff around our house sometimes. For someone who's only interested in being friends, my aunt sure does check him out a lot when he's doing it._

 _~~ January 31, 1983 ~~_

 _Oops, I got distracted by a phone call from Mo McArnold and then forgot to finish and send this letter. I'll put it in the mail tomorrow. By the way, I sniffed Mr. McMullen's cup like you said to. Oh my God! Is he just drunk the entire time he's teaching? Is that it? Why doesn't the administration do something about it?_

 _Thanks for the heads up on Shane. Kimberly already lost interest in him before I got your letter, though. They actually went out once already. He expected sex on the first date. She said NO to the sex, and he got all whiny, so she said no to ever going out with him again. Bullet dodged. I like Kimmy. She knows who she is and she doesn't need to impress anyone. I wish I was more like that a year ago. If I was, I might not have done some things I wish I hadn't done. I think I'm becoming more like that this year, though._

 _So…What about Mo? What do you think of him? He's taking me to the dance this Saturday. I said yes._

 _To answer your questions -_

 _My favorite movie at the moment is Grease. By the way, I went and looked at your team photo in the trophy case in the main hall and you look nothing like Robert Redford. You look more like John Travolta in Grease._

Eric smiled faintly. That must mean she thought he was pretty good-looking. Unless she didn't like John Travolta in Grease. But if it was her favorite movie, she probably did. Besides, most girls thought he was good-looking, especially when he was playing ball. His mother had always told him never to let that go to his head, that it was no challenge to get a girl - that the real challenge was keeping her. "Your dad's managed to keep me nineteen years," she'd said at the time. "Now that's an accomplishment." But now his dad was moving on, apparently, or at least he wanted to, even though he wasn't getting any traction. He wondered if his dad would start dating someone else now, maybe one of the teachers at the school, maybe one of Eric's teachers for next year. How weird would that be? He tried not to think about that and read on:

 _My favorite singer is Tammy Wynette. My mom named me after her but changed the y to an i to be different I guess. She had her first number one hit the year I was born. Do you like country music at all? It sounds like you mostly listen to rock._

 _I moved from Houston, but we used to live in Corpus before that. I guess I live in Dillon next, if I don't stay here in Euless. I don't really want to live in a small town where no one cares about anything but football. No offense. I know you're totally into it, and it's okay, but it's not the end all be all._

Eric raised an eyebrow. Football might not be the end-all-be-all, but it was sure a heck of a lot better than "okay."

 _I don't know how to describe what I look like, so maybe I'll just send you a photo the next time I write._

 _Do you have a hot date planned for Valentine's Day? If this dance thing goes well, I guess I'm going out with Mo for the Hallmark Heart Holiday too._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Tami_

Eric folded the letter three times and shoved it into the pocket of his jean jacket. He stood because Billy was making his way to the tree. "Siesta's 'bout over, man. Help me repair that fence?"

Eric nodded and followed him across the ranch. Billy ended up doing most of the work, while Eric just held things for the guy and handed them over when asked, or added his muscle to the lifting or propping. Billy was very handy with tools. "You should become a maintenance guy," Eric told him. "Handyman or something."

"Might could," Billy said. "It don't take a high school degree." He slid a post in place. "Hey, yer pen pal send ya a photo?"

"Not yet."

"Mine did. She's ain't much to look at."

"Well, maybe don't mention that in your reply," Eric said. "And you're no Prince Charming either." Billy was a bit gangly and his teeth were somewhat stained, probably from cigarettes or chew. His sandy brown hair was always unkempt, and he was missing part of that one toe.

"Ya think Warren assigned us all ugly girls on purpose?" Billy asked.

"I don't think my pen pal's ugly," Eric replied. "She got asked out by the new quarterback. She's probably decent looking. I mean, Mo's a little goofy and annoying." McArnold was a bit on the thin side for a quarterback, not nearly as well built as most of the players. "He's probably not going to get A-list girls. But he _is_ a quarterback, so he's at least going to get B-list."

"Oh." Billy grinned. "No wonder you've been writin' her back. B-list don't sound bad."

"That's not why," Eric said. "Not to brag, but I'm pretty sure I can date A-list when I go back to Euless." He helped Billy by holding a post while he nailed it in place. "I just...I don't know. I _like_ writing her."

"What makes ya think any of 'em girls is even gonna 'member ya when ya get back? Sounds like this Mo McArnold guy might of filled yer shoes already."

"I'll be back on the team. My dad's the coach. McArnold's going back to the bench."

"If'n ya say so." Billy put a nail between his teeth to hold it and gestured for Eric to help pick up another post.

Billy didn't say much else while they finished repairing the fence, and Eric found his mind wandering. What if he did return to school a nobody? It wasn't as if his old friends were checking in on him down on this ranch. It was like he didn't exist for them. Tami was the only person other than his father he was communicating with back home, and he'd never met her, and she might not be there when he moved back.

It occurred to Eric that although he'd hung out and partied with the guys on the team quite a bit, he'd never really made a best friend, or even a close friend. The last time he could remember having a best friend was in 7th grade, but that kid had moved away to California. They'd written for awhile, and then the letters had just tapered off. It wasn't clear who stopped writing first, but they both knew they were never going to see each other again.

He'd never really _talked_ to the guys on his team about anything other than football. He sure hadn't talked to any of them about his mom dying. He'd probably said more to Billy and Dante about that already, in just his few weeks here, than he'd ever said to the teammates he'd known for two years. He was beginning to find an unexpected acceptance among these strange new friends on the ranch, but he didn't quite know where his place was in that old world he'd left behind. What would he be going back to, exactly?

"Watch yer thumb, brother," Billy said. "Don't want ya losing a toe like me."

Eric shook off the unwelcome thoughts and put his mind into the work.


	13. Chapter 13

"Are you getting the hang of horseback riding?" Coach Taylor asked. He was sitting in the chair at the kitchen desk, intermittently sipping a single bottle of beer as he talked to his son. Maybe he shouldn't have kept beer in the house when Eric began the heavy drinking. He wondered if Eric was craving alcohol, now that he'd gone weeks without it, but he was afraid to ask.

"I suck at it," Eric said. "Billy's a natural. Dante's pretty good. But either the horse stops suddenly on me, or it goes so fast I fall off. I almost broke my arm."

"Well, be careful about that. Maybe you shouldn't be riding. You don't want to mess up your chance at the NFL. And we're going to need you in shape for next season on the Bowie Boars."

"So Mo isn't working out for you?"

"Mo's an adequate player. But he lacks your natural athleticism. He even lacks your discipline."

"Even?" Eric asked, his voice rising. Coach Taylor could tell he'd irritated his son. He felt a mixture of anger and regret to hear that tone in Eric's voice. "Because it's a shock that I have any discipline at all, is that it?"

"No. that's not what I said, Eric. You've been fairly self-disciplined most of your life. But you can agree that last season you may have slacked off a little. The drinking may - "

" - Well I still got you to the playoffs, didn't I? And when you _benched_ me for Mo, he didn't exactly bring you to State."

"I never said you weren't a good player." Coach Taylor rubbed his eyes. He was getting tired of Eric's prickliness. He was getting tired of feeling like a failure as a father. He was getting tired of not being able to say anything right. He tried to switch course. As pleasantly as he could muster, he said, "Bonnie told me you've been writing Tami long letters. I'm glad you're helping her with her assignment, that you're taking your part in it seriously."

"Because I usually don't take things seriously, right? I'm a total jack-off most of the time."

"Don't speak to me like that. Don't use terms like that. That's not a word you should be saying to your elders." What the hell was happening? They'd had a decent conversation last time they'd spoken on the phone. Deacon had thought he was making progress. Bonnie had told him to talk about Ivy, that Eric needed to know that Deacon missed her too, that they'd mourned separately but not together, and neither of them had mourned in a particularly healthful way. So he had talked about Ivy. Maybe that's what he should do now. "Your mother - "

"- Would have been ashamed of me. I know."

"Jesus Christ, Eric! Do you have to take everything so goddamn personally?"

There was silence on the other end of the line. Eric was probably stunned. Deacon Taylor didn't swear much, at least not around his son. He hadn't sworn much around Ivy, either. In high school, he'd been told by his football coach that a gentleman didn't swear in front of a lady. It wasn't something he'd have guessed from the way his own father had cussed **_at_ ** his mother, but the admonition from his beloved coach had stuck with him. In front of Eric or Ivy, he might say the occasional hell or damn, but that was the worst of it. Most of his swearing was reserved for other adult males.

Eric's voice was almost a whisper. "Dad?"

"Sorry. I didn't mean to...I just..." Deacon sighed. "I thought we had a good talk last time. And I don't understand what, if anything, I've done to make you so defensive. That's all."

"I guess...I guess I'm just..."

"Just what?" Coach Taylor asked.

"Well, I don't understand why you told me you decided _not_ to date this Bonnie chick when apparently it was the other way around. And apparently you _want_ to go out with her."

"What gave you that idea?"

"Tami gave me that idea. That's what her aunt told her."

"Ah."

"Is it true?" Eric asked. "Did you want to keep dating her?"

Coach Taylor considered lying, but he didn't lie. "Yes," he said. "I did."

"Why?"

"Because...she's..." Beautiful. Lively. Intriguing. Most likely very good in bed, if he had to hazard a guess. "...Good company. But we're just going to be friends."

"That's not what you want, though?"

"What I want is not relevant in this scenario," Coach Taylor said. "The woman always leads, Eric. And a gentleman doesn't press."

"So...does that mean you're going to be looking to date someone else?"

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "Maybe."

"Why?"

"Eric, son...it's been over a year. I miss..." He fell silent. He missed the touch of a woman, the softness and the otherness of the female sex, the affection, the companionship, and yes...most definitely the sex. He didn't say any of that, though. What he said was: "I do miss your mother. I loved her and I was always faithful to her. But she's dead, Eric." He ran to fingers across his eyes to the bridge of his nose when he said that, because there might have been a tear or two there. "She's dead. And you're on that ranch. And in two years you'll be at college. And I'm alone."

"Oh. Well, I've got to go."

"Eric - "

"It's dinner time and then I have to finish this book Grandpa assigned. I really have to go."

Before Coach Taylor could quite say goodbye, his son had hung up.

[*]

Eric turned on the light attached to the post of his bunk bed. Billy was snoring again on the top bunk, like a chain saw. Dante was asleep with his pillow over his head and those soft orange ear plugs they used on the rifle range when Grandpa was teaching them to shoot, which he did on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons.

Figuring he wasn't going to be able to nod off anytime soon, Eric pulled out a notebook and a blue ballpoint pen.

 _February 1, 1983_

 _Dear Tami,_

 _You said you were glad I'm getting along better with my dad, but I'm not sure I am. We talked today, and we kind of fought. Sometimes I feel like I can't do anything right in his eyes. I know that probably sounds like a totally petty complaint to you, what with the raw deal you got from your dad. But it's just how I feel about it._

 _I thought you'd be staying in Euless until you graduated. That sucks, getting jerked around from school to school like that. Three high schools in four years? We've moved for my dad's job a lot, but I haven't had to change schools much. We moved the summer before I started kindergarten, then again in the summer before 3rd grade, then right before middle school, then for high school. But I'd have been starting a new school anyway for all but one of those moves. I guess you would miss your sister and want to get back to her, though. I never had a brother or sister. I kind of wish I had, because I don't have a lot of close friends in Euless, honestly._ _But family's always there, you know?_

He went back and scratched out the last sentence, because he thought of the fact that her father had deserted her. Then he continued:

 _If you do end up moving back in with your mom, and she does end up moving to Dillon, don't worry about it. It's not so bad. I actually lived there for three years when I was in middle school. Dillon High has a really great football team. The Panthers have won State twice in my lifetime. But I know you don't care about football. Still, the town might not suck as much as you expect it to. I mean, it's not like Euless is a very exciting place, either, other than being less than an hour from Dallas and Fort Worth. Okay, well, Dillon is kind of in the middle of nowhere. But the high school is pretty big, almost as big as Bowie High. Of course, that's because it's the ONLY high school. Well, there's one in east Dillon, too, but you don't want to live on that side of the tracks. They were shutting that school down when we moved anyway. I think the kids who went there are going to school in the next town over now._

 _So...volleyball? Yeah, you should totally try out this summer. Sports are great for taking your mind off of the crap you have to deal with it. Football's always done that for me. Maybe volleyball will make you forget whatever you did to embarrass yourself at your old school. What DID you do? (Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. And remember - we'll probably never even meet each other in person.)_

 _No, I don't honestly think I have a chance of making the NFL, but I talk like I do, because my dad seems to think I CAN make it, if I just "straighten myself out" and come back and play well next season. I do think I could get a full college scholarship, but...getting drafted out of college? I don't know. I just don't think that happens to regular guys like me. I used to think I was hot stuff, but I'm starting to think I'm pretty much just a regular guy. I don't think I'm destined to do great things._

 _As for why I don't want to coach football? Because that's what my dad does. Probably the same reason I don't listen to country music - because that's what my dad does. The truth is, I don't even really like Van Halen. I just know it annoys my dad. And I don't even know if I really want to be a sportscaster. I just know that sportscasters piss off my dad with all their commentary. This all sounds kind of stupid when I write it down like that._

 _So, how was the dance with Mo? Guess you'll have gone already by the time you get this._

 _Don't forget to send me a photo of yourself next time._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Eric_

Eric tucked the notebook under his bed and clicked off the light. Billy had rolled on his left side, which meant he wasn't snoring anymore - for now. He only snored on his back. Eric settled under his blanket, closed his eyes, and willed himself to sleep.

[*]

The horse whinnied and bucked as the trainer grasped its reins, spoke to it, and soothed it. Eric leaned against the fence surrounding the ring and watched the trainer at work. As soon as this session was done, Eric was suppose to rub down the horse. The task intimidated him a little. You never new if the horse was going to cooperate with the grooming.

Grandpa Maddox bought unruly horses for cheap from other ranchers. Sometimes, a horse could not be broken, and Grandpa had to take the lossbut when one _could_ be trained, he sold it again and got a huge return on his investment.

A lightly tanned, wrinkled hand came down on the rail beside Eric. He turned and tipped his cowboy hat to his grandfather and then returned his attention to the ring. They watched in silence for awhile, until Grandpa said, "Your mother tamed your father something like that. Broke him in real good. He was a bit wild in his youth. A good ranch hand, but he came with a reputation."

"Wild how?" Eric asked.

"You don't need to know the details, grandson. But he had his troubles, just like you did back in Euless. So when he ran off with my daughter - your mother - well, I was none too happy. I felt betrayed."

"Betrayed?"

"You father was desperate for work, and I gave him a chance even though he didn't have a lot of ranch skills. And that's how he repaid me - by eloping with her."

"They eloped?" Eric hadn't known that. He knew they'd married when his mother was very young, just eighteen, and he hadn't seen any wedding photos, now that he thought about it, but being a boy, it wasn't something he'd thought to look for or ask about before.

"I was angry when he took off with her," grandpa continued. "I was worried, too. I didn't expect it to last. I kept waiting for her to come home with her heart shattered, but, you know, she never did. To be honest, I assumed he'd knocked her up."

"Dad?" Eric had always figured his parents were virgins when they got married. His mother was always telling him to respect girls, and his father never talked about sex at all.

"But then you didn't come along until five years later," grandpa said. "And then your father worked very hard and worked his way all the way up to a head coaching position. Athletic Director, even. And he's been a steady husband and a good provider." He sighed. "I probably should have given your father a second chance sooner. But I didn't, and every time over the past several years, whenever I've thought about reaching out to him, it just seemed impossible. As if thing were permanently awkward between us. We've never been able to quite sort it out." He nodded to Billy, who was assisting the horse trainer in the ring. "Maybe that's why, for the last ten years, I've been running this camp. Trying to give all these boys the benefit of the doubt I failed to give your father."

Eric looked away from the ornery horse that was being trained to his grandfather. "Why are you telling me all this?"

"Because I don't want you to make the same mistake I did. I want you to give your father the benefit of the doubt. He loves you, Eric. That's why he sent you here. Stop acting like you don't know that. And stop acting like you don't need his love."

Eric turned away and refocused his attention on the horse. Grandpa put a hand on Eric's shoulder. He squeezed gently before walking away.


	14. Chapter 14

Tami turned around so her aunt could zip up her dress.

"You look really nice, Tam. See, I told you this was prettier than that immodest one."

Tami rolled her eyes as she turned to face her aunt. "It's not like you don't wear blouses that emphasize your assets, auntie."

"But they aren't _that_ low cut. Subtlety, Tami. You have to leave something to the imagination. Boys have fantastic imaginations."

Tami chuckled. This was nothing like preparing for a date would have been with her mother. Of course, Tami wouldn't know, becuase her mother had forbidden her to date. The consequence of that was that she had ended up sneaking out of the house and going to parties where there were a lot of older boys, and losing her virginity, and getting called easy in school (while the boy got called a stud), and wishing she could turn back the clock and undo it all.

There was a knock on the door. "Already?" Tami asked. Mo wasn't supposed to pick her up for the dance for another thirty minutes. Aunt Bonnie had conceded that it was okay to let him drive, even though this was a first date, because Tami could always use the school phone to call Bonnie to pick her up if things proved disastrous.

Aunt Bonnie turned her eyes to the front door and peered through the verticle window in the wall next to it. "Oh, it's just Deacon." She let him in. He nodded to them both and extended Aunt Bonnie a record.

He sure did lend her a lot of records, Tami thought - clearly an excuse to come over and see her more often.

"This is the one I was talking about," he told her.

"Well you look very handsome," Aunt Bonnie told him. Coach Taylor was in a black suit and with a solid red tie. "Are you chaperoning at the dance?"

Coach Taylor let out a sharp laugh. "Certainly not. I don't get paid enough for that." He looked over her shoulder at Tami. "You're going to attend, I gather?"

"Yes, sir. With Mo McArnold."

"So why are you so dressed up then?" Aunt Bonnie asked him.

"I have a date. We're going to the symphony in Dallas."

"A date?" Aunt Bonnie asked with shock in her voice. "To the _symphony_?"

"Yes."

"You don't strike me as a symphony sort of guy."

"Well, she's a symphony sort of girl."

Aunt Bonnie blinked. She gripped the record he had handed her a little tighter. "Who is this woman?"

Tami detected a note of jealousy in her tone. She excused herself to finish getting ready for the dance, but when she rounded the corner to the hallway, she couldn't resist the temptation to eavesdrop...just a little.

"Not someone from school, I hope," her aunt was saying. "You know, you really shouldn't dip your pen in the company ink."

"It's the first date. I don't think I'll be dipping my pen in anything."

Tami covered her mouth to stifle a gasping laugh. She couldn't believe Coach Taylor had said something like that, let alone to a woman. But, to be fair, her aunt _had_ been the one to choose the phrase. She thought maybe Coach Taylor was still a little bitter about her aunt's rejection.

Tami listened for her aunt's response. There was a long silence and then, "Who _is_ she?"

"The sister of one of my assistant coaches. She lives in Irving."

"How long have you known each other?" Aunt Bonnie asked.

"I've met her a few times, at dinners and cocktail parties and such that Coach Gomez has invited me to over the past three years. Why do you ask?"

"Just...it seems kind of sudden, don't you think? I mean, one day you're saying you want to date me, and practically the next day you're - "

" - You said you only wanted to be friends."

"Yeah, I did, but..." Tami's aunt trailed off.

"May I tell you something, Bonnie. Candidly?"

"You can always be candid with me, Deacon."

"You snooze, you lose. Enjoy the record." The front door opened and closed.

Tami scurried down the hall to the bathroom and pretended to be fixing her hair.

[*]

 _February 5, 1983_

 _Dear Eric,_

 _Did your dad tell you he went to the symphony with Coach Gomez's sister yesterday? I have no idea who that is, but he was dressed very sharply. I think my aunt was a little jealous. I don't get why she said she didn't want to date him if she's just going to get bent out of shape when he dates someone else._

 _I had a good time at the winter dance with Mo. He's so goofy and high energy but it was so much fun dancing with him. Why do you never say anything about him? Don't you have an opinion on him? Or is this some kind of silence of the football brotherhood thing? He was very sweet to me. He brought me a single red rose. Totally classy. We're going out to Chili's on Valentine's Day. He wanted to take me to a movie after, but my aunt said no, because it's a school night. How about you? Any hot dates for Heart-Day?_

 _What do you mean you don't have close friends in Euless? Not even on the team? Mo mentioned you a couple of times - just football related stuff from last season. I told him you were writing me pen pal letters and he laughed. I guess the idea of you writing letters is funny? You're not a letter writing sort of guy, usually? I asked if y'all were friends and he said you mostly hung out with the troublemakers on the team and he likes to stay out of trouble so he doesn't risk getting kicked off the team like you did. I guess that's why you're on the ranch. Because you got into trouble. Come on! When are you going to tell me what you did? Inquiring minds want to know. (So, those guys you used to hang out with, you don't consider them close friends?)_

Tami thought of writing, "If you tell me what you did to get sent to the ranch, I'll tell you what I did to embarrass myself at my old school," but she decided against it. She didn't want to share something _that_ personal with him. Nobody knew about it except the boy, her aunt Bonnie, and, apparently, half of her old high school...

 _Maybe you're not "destined to great things" as you say. But maybe you're destined to be a great man in small things. My aunt always tells me that the things we do have ripple effects that can go on and on...so don't be bummed if you don't make it to the NFL. Figure out what you can do to make a ripple effect. God. I sound like a stupid inspirational poster, don't I? But whatever you do, don't NOT do something you WANT to do just because your dad does it. You're right - that IS totally stupid._

 _Okay, some questions so you'll have something to write back -_

 _1\. Favorite football team OTHER than the Dallas Cowboys?_

 _2\. Favorite candy bar._

 _Oh, heck, let's make this more interesting. You and I are probably never going to see each other, right? We might as well make it like truth or dare -_

 _3\. When did you lose your virginity?_

 _4\. What girl do you most like at Bowie High as of right now?_

 _5\. Have you ever been in a fist fight?_

 _Sincerely,_

 _Tami_


	15. Chapter 15

Tami didn't have a lot of experience dating. She'd gone to her first school dance in 9th grade, with a group of friends, and danced with the same boy twice. After that, she'd decided he was her boyfriend, but he'd been shy and they'd never done anything but hold hands. Eventually, the romance, such as it was, had fizzled out. In 10th grade, she'd shared her first real kiss with a boy. They'd never gone any farther than a little making out. But then the first half of her junior year, she'd gone straight from dipping her toe in the shallow end to jumping off the high dive.

Feeling confined by her mother's strict rules and curfew, Tami had begun sneaking out of the house, partying, and neglecting her grades. She'd casually lost her virginity and regretted it, but now...now...she thought maybe she was about to have her first _real_ boyfriend.

Mo was so cute, and funny, and energetic. And he _really_ seemed to like her. He was carrying her books in the hallway now, and giving her rides home from school in his blue 1979 Mustang with the black racing stripe, and laughing with her at rehearsal, and for Valentine's Day, he'd taken her out to a _sit-down_ dinner at Bennigan's. They'd made out in his car for half an hour before he took her home, but he hadn't tried to touch her below the waist.

She'd been so busy with Mo, that she hadn't noticed Eric's delay in writing her back. But when his letter arrived the day after Valentine's, she found herself strangely excited to see his familiar scrawl on the envelope. She snatched up the letter and headed toward her room, leaving her aunt staring out the kitchen window at Coach Taylor working on his pick-up truck in his driveway. It was sixty degrees, a warm February evening, and the man had on nothing but blue jeans and a tight white t-shirt, which was stained with black grease or oil. For some reason, this seemed to appeal immensely to Tami's aunt.

Tami shook her head and retreated.

[*]

 _February 11, 1983_

 _Dear Tami,_

 _No, my dad didn't tell me he was dating Coach Gomez's sister. He doesn't tell me anything. I had to call and ask him about it and he fessed up. I guess that's just what he's going to be doing now. Dating. I don't know why it ticks me off so much. It's not like he's cheating on my mom. It's been awhile. I just hope I never have to deal with a stepmother. I just think that would be weird. If I do, pretty sure it's not going to be Coach Gomez's sister. He's gone out with her twice now, but he said she's not the sharpest tool in the shed. She keeps using big words that don't mean what she thinks they mean and he has to try not to laugh. I think he wants to stop seeing her but he's afraid of pissing off his assistant coach so they have a date for Valentine's, which I guess will be over when you get this letter. You probably know more about that than I do. You seem to have the scoop on my dad's life before me._

 _No, I didn't go out for Valentine's. I don't get to date here at the ranch. The only time I see girls at all is when we go to the movies on Friday night and the indoor pool on Saturday. That's the only time we leave the ranch. They flirt with us, but that's it, although my roommate Dante got one girl's number. Not that it matters. He can't take her out. Rules. We're supposed to be "working on ourselves" and not worrying about girls. For Valentine's Day, my grandpa made us visit a nursing home and give cards and sweets to the old ladies. We each had to pick one to read to and talk with, too. So my hot date was eighty-nine. Mrs. O'Henry had some really interesting stories about World War I though. She was an Army nurse in France. Pretty cool lady, actually, but she kept calling me Eugene._

 _I thought I was going to hate visiting the nursing home, but it's kind of cool getting the perspective of old people. I never had grandparents, really. My dad's mom died when he was ten, and his dad was an alcoholic basket case who kicked my dad out of the house when he was sixteen, so if he's even alive, my dad doesn't talk to him. He ended up living with his coach until he graduated from high school. My mom's mom died when my mom was fourteen, and so all I have is Grandpa Maddox, but I never really saw him often or spent much time with him before now. It's been pretty good getting to know him. He's lived some life. And he's strict, but he's...I don't know. I respect him, I guess. Do you have any living grandparents?_

 _What do you mean, "maybe I'm destined to be a great man in small things?" Talk about inspirational poster b.s. Though, I don't know. My grandpa does small things on the ranch, but he's really making a difference I think. A lot of these guys, they were a mess before they came here, and most of them will go home not a mess. I might go home not a mess._

 _Your questions:_

 _(1) I don't have a second favorite NFL team after the Cowboys. My favorite college team is the Aggies, though. And I rooted for the Dolphins in the last Superbowl, of course, because they were playing the Redskins. Did you watch it? Grandpa has no T.V. reception so we watched it down at some bar and drank Cokes all night. We had to leave before it was quite over though because some drunk guy started really ranting and Gramps didn't want us around for that._

 _(2) Baby Ruth. What's yours?_

 _(3) None of your damn business. Why, when did you?_

 _(4) I dated a few girls last semester, but I wasn't really that into any of them. So what girl do I like most at Bowie High? Well, since you're pretty much the only girl from Bowie High who's even talking to me right now, I guess you._

 _(5) Only once. Middle school. 6th grade. This 8th graders were picking on this semi-retarded kid so I just popped him one. He fought back and gave me a nice black eye. He was bigger. We both got in trouble for fighting from the school, but my dad wasn't mad at me._

 _So...you forgot to enclose your photo. You gonna send that this time?_

 _Sincerely,_

 _Eric_

Tami didn't write back immediately. She went to the kitchen to get a Coke. Her aunt was still looking out the window, even though all the dishes in the sink were clean and put away in the drying rack now. "Good Lord, Auntie. Why don't you just walk over there and tell him you made a mistake and you actually _do_ want to date him?"

Aunt Bonnie wiped her hands dry on the towel. "I was just day dreaming," she insisted.

"What are you so afraid of? He seems like a nice enough man. Even though he got kicked out of his house when he was sixteen."

Aunt Bonnie whirled around. "What?"

Tami laughed. "I don't know. That's just what Eric told me. I think that was his father's fault, though, not anything really bad he'd done."

"He never mentioned that to me."

"Well, maybe on your next date he'll talk to you about it."

Aunt Bonnie rolled her eyes. "Cut it out, little Miss Matchmaker."

Tami leaned back against the refrigerator. "Seriously. Why don't you just admit you like him? What's the worse that happens?"

"I get my heart broken."

"You told me heartbreaks heal, remember? You told me that I have my whole life ahead of me."

"I'm not sixteen."

Tami turned, open the fridge, and grabbed a Coke. "Go ask him out," she said, and then she disappeared back into the bedroom to write her letter to Eric.


	16. Chapter 16

Eric flipped through the pages of Tami's letter. He peered into the envelope and dug his fingers around the inside.

"What ya lookin' for?" Billy asked. The weather had turned cold, so Eric was taking siesta inside by the fireplace today, along with some of the other boys. When he was working outside, he usually ended up shedding his coat, but when he was just resting, the chill crept in.

Billy was paying chess with Dante on the living room table, his back to the fire. The first time Eric had seen Billy playing, he'd laughed and asked, " _You_ play chess?" Billy had given him such a hard look, that Eric's laughter had faded quickly. Apparently, Grandpa Maddox had taught Billy to play, and he'd taken to the game like a fish to water.

"My pen pal keeps saying she'll send a photo," Eric answered, "but she never does."

"Must be C list then, man," Billy replied.

"Nah, told you, she's dating the quarterback. Maybe not A list, but she can't be C list."

"Maybe she's C list but she has _other_ skills," Billy said with a wiggle of his eyebrow. "Check."

"Damn it," Dante muttered. He studied the board.

"Or maybe this quarterback's just a loser," Billy continued. "Has he ever dated hot girls before?"

"I don't know what his other girlfriend looks like," Eric said. "She lives in Grapevine." He refolded Tami's letter and set it on the end table.

Dante peered over the chess board to where Eric sat in the rocking chair. "He has _another_ girlfriend?"

"Unless he broke it off with her, but he was still talking about her when I got sent here. His parents are divorced. He lives in Euless most of the time with his mom, but he sees his Dad in Grapevine part of the summer and one weekend a month. So he sees his girl when he's there."

Billy grinned like this was the best entertainment he'd experienced in weeks. "Ya gonna tell yer pen pal that?"

"Not my business," Eric said. "I assume he told her."

"Did she _say_ he told her?" Billy asked. "In one of her letters?"

"No."

"I doubt he told her," Dante said. "Girls don't generally like to date guys who are _already_ dating other girls."

"Some of them do," Eric said.

Billy leaned back on his hands, which he stretched out behind himself on the carpet. "How many chicks you date at once?"

"I'm not dating anyone at the moment."

Billy cocked his head to the side. "A'ight, but what's the maximum ya ever dated at one time?"

"Three."

"They all know you was seein' the other ones?"

"Sure," Eric said. "I think at least one of them only wanted me because the other two did."

Billy chuckled, sat up straighter, and made a move on the chess board. "Must be nice to be you."

"A guy's got to play the field a little," Eric reasoned. "It's not like I ever lied to any of them or cheated on anyone." Eric said it casually, as if he'd never wanted anything more than meaningless flings. But the truth was, as much as he physically enjoyed fooling around with pretty girls, he'd felt a little empty the whole time he was going it. He _wanted_ a real girlfriend, but he hadn't liked or respected any of those girls enough to want to go steady. It wasn't easy for him to connect with other people beyond a surface level. He'd only had one steady girlfriend in his life, and she'd broken his heart a little bit. She'd said he was _boring_ when she ended it. Well, he sure as hell hadn't been boring this past year, but he hadn't been himself either.

"What if yer pen pal _don't_ know he's got another girl?" Billy asked.

"Then it's not my place to tell her. I'd get skewered on the team if I ever did something like that."

"Yeah," Billy said with a smirk, "but you might have a B-list girl - or a C-list girl with _special skills_ \- waitin' for ya when ya get back home."

"She might be moving. And even if she's not, I'm not writing her to get her in pants. I'm doing it because it's her school project and my dad's making me." That and, well...Eric enjoyed writing to Tami. He was starting to really look forward to her letters. In fact, he wanted to read this one right now - in _private -_ so he left the living room.

As he retreated down the hall, he heard Billy say, "Check-frickin'-mate, Dante boy!"

Eric settled on his bunk in the bedroom before unfolding the letter again.

 _February 15, 1983_

 _Dear Eric,_

 _I told my aunt to tell your dad that she likes him. I hope that doesn't piss you off. You seem kind of ticked off about the idea of your dad dating again, although, I've got to say, he's like the most eligible bachelor in the entire eastern half of Euless, so you're probably going to have to come to grips with it. I get it, though. I'd probably freak if my mom started dating again, and I didn't even have a good relationship with my dad._

 _But my aunt keeps watching your dad out the window, and I'm just getting annoyed by all the mooning. So I gave her a kick in the butt._ _I don't understand her sometimes, honestly. She told him she didn't want to date him, when it's totally clear to me that she DOES. Maybe it's some kind of mind game. Don't guys hate it when girls do that, though? Or does it actually WORK? Me, I can't do that kind of stuff. If I like someone, I'm just going to say it. And if I don't, well, I'm going to say that too. Anything else seems like a waste of time. Of course, sometimes I'm not always sure. But I'm SURE I like Mo now. He's really sweet. So goofy in a cute way and lots of fun. And he's a pretty awesome kisser. We made out for a really long time after our Valentine's date. It was great._

Now why, Eric wondered, did girls get to say things like that and not be considered dogs? His father would rip him a new one for "kissing and telling." Rather than boast, he'd let the guys in the locker room assume a few things just by smiling and shrugging at their crude suggestions. Sometimes they assumed more than he'd actually done.

 _What do you think of Mo? I think I've only asked you that like a dozen times now._

 _I think it's sweet that you wooed an old lady for Valentine's Day. Your grandpa sounds pretty awesome. My dad's parents died before I was born. My mom and aunt don't talk to their dad because he was abusive. My aunt keeps reminding me I should cut my mom some slack because she had a hard life, but, you know so did my aunt, and she's not a constant thorn in my side. Of course, Aunt Bonnie never had a husband who left her alone with two girls, so there is that. My mom's never really had a decent man in her life, except my uncle, but we don't get to see him much. My nana is still alive, but my mom's not real close to her because she's still kind of pissed off at how her mom just ignored the abuse. Nana lives with my uncle in Oklahoma and we visit twice a year and that's about it. She's sort of senile and she thinks I'm my mom sometimes._

 _When I said a "great man in small things," I was thinking of how people can make a real impact on someone's life, even if they aren't famous. What you described your grandpa doing - that's a good example. If you became a coach, you could really change people's lives, you know? More than you could in the NFL, probably. I had a volleyball coach in 8th grade that really helped me thorough a hard time. Maybe if she hadn't moved, she'd have helped me through my dad taking off and I wouldn't have been stupid about guys my sophomore year and then nearly flunked out last semester._

 _My favorite candy bar? Well, not a bar, really, but Reese's peanut butter cups._

 _Why do you ASSUME I even lost my virginity?_

"What the hell?" Eric thought. SHE had assumed HE had. She'd asked the question to start with. But maybe he'd accidentally put his foot in his mouth with that one. After all, most of the girls he knew were still virgins, including some of the ones he'd dated last year. They'd wanted to fool around with him but not go all the way. Given how often guys claimed to get laid in the locker room, he'd been a little surprised to learn that.

Eric returned his attention to the letter:

 _Glad to know I've made a good impression with my letters. Thought you would just think I was some crazy chick._

Here she drew a face with its eyes rolled and its tongue stuck out.

 _But if I'M the girl you like best at Bowie High, that's kind of sad, since we've never even met. That doesn't say a lot for the other girls at Bowie High, does it? Or have you just not gotten to know the cool ones yet for some reason? I don't think the really cool ones hang out with the football team. No offense. I just think a lot of them are busy doing other stuff. Did you mostly date cheerleaders and drill team girls?_

 _Sorry I keep forgetting the photo. I had to find one first of all. I didn't exactly pack all my photo albums when I moved in with my aunt. So I had to take one she had of me out of a magnet frame on her fridge. The one I enclosed is of me at homecoming at my old school at the start of this school year, so it's a few months old._

Eric peered into the envelop again, just in case, but there was still no picture.

 _So, a few more questions:_

 _(1) Favorite board game? Mine's the Mad Magazine game because you get to do silly stuff._

 _(2) Do you go to church? I had to go TWICE on Sundays and on Wednesday night back home, but my aunt doesn't go except on Christmas and Easter, as far as I can tell. We're Baptist. What are you?_

 _(3) If you could be any animal, what would it be?_

She crossed that out and wrote "never mind, stupid question" underneath. Eric smiled.

 _(3) What do you miss most about your mom?_

 _Sincerely,_

 _Tami_

Eric swallowed. That last question hit him hard. It wasn't just because he missed his mother that it affected him - it was the fact that Tami noticed, cared, and had _asked_ him about it. None of his so-called friends on the team, and none of the girls he'd dated, had ever asked him a question like that.

He blinked his eyes rapidly, folded up the letter, and shoved it under his bed in the shoe box where he kept all the others.


	17. Chapter 17

Deacon Taylor ran a fingertip along the open top of his beer bottle as he spoke on the phone with his son. He was ready for football season to start again, but even spring training was still over a month away. He wasn't busy enough. "I think you should come home for Easter," he said. "I could drive down that Thursday after work, pick you up. It's April 3 this year."

"A'ight," Eric said. He sounded uncertain about the prospect for some reason.

"Don't want see your old man?"

"Didn't say that. It's just…we were planning a big spring football game that Saturday in the ranch tournaments. But I can reschedule it. I'm in charge of the schedule. I organize the whole thing."

"Ranch tournaments?"

"Yeah, I'm kind of running a ranch league down here," Eric told him. "We don't just play each other now. We play some of the ranch hands on two of the neighboring farms."

"You planned it all out?" Coach Taylor smiled. "Are you coaching your team, too?"

Eric sounded a little proud. "Yeah, yeah I am."

"Not as easy as it looks, huh?"

"No," he admitted. "It's not."

"You're playing adults, too?" Deacon asked.

"Some. They aren't really any bigger than us."

"Just don't get injured," Deacon warned him. "You don't want to throw away your chance at the NFL."

Eric was quiet. Finally he said, "What makes you think I can make it all the way to the NFL?"

"Because I've been coaching high school boys for almost twenty years, Eric. If I say you can make it, it's not because I'm dreaming of pie in the sky. You _can_. Put in the effort when you get back on the team. Keep your grades up. Get a scholarship to A &M or some place with a decent team…get noticed...it's a real possibility for you." Eric sighed. Deacon didn't understand why he wasn't more excited about the prospect. "You ought to take this as a compliment."

"It's a lot of pressure."

"Life is a lot of pressure," Deacon said. "You should – "

"- Still dating Coach Gomez's sister?"

"Uh…" Coach Taylor was thrown by the change in topic, but even more by the question. "No. We parted amicably after our last date."

"So are you going to ask that neighbor out again? Bonnie?"

"Bonnie told me she doesn't want to date me."

"Sometimes no means ask again later."

Deacon pushed his beer bottle aside on the kitchen desk. "Oh, you're an expert on this?"

"Well, I think I have more recent experience than you do."

Deacon chuckled. "I reckon so."

"That and...I just got a letter from Tami. She said she thinks her aunt likes you."

"So…you wouldn't mind if I _did_ date her?"

"It's none of my business."

"Yes, Eric, it _is_ your business. Because you're my son, and anyone I end up dating might…be around."

"You mean I might have a stepmother one day?"

"I'm not looking to get married again," Deacon told him. "But I'm not ruling out the possibility it might happen one day either. I just mean, you know, she'll be around."

"So…" Eric sounded confused. "Are you asking for my permission to date?"

Deacon laughed. "No, son, I'm not asking for _your_ permission for anything. Ever. But I _am_ asking how it would make you feel."

Eric sighed. "Fine. Makes me feel like you're forgetting Mom."

"I will never forget your mother. She was the greatest love of my life. She was the mother of my only child. There's no way I can _forget_ her."

"A'ight, well, you asked how it made me feel, and that's how it makes me feel. But I get it. I do. You've got to move on eventually. So move on. Just don't knock some woman up."

Deacon blinked. "Excuse me?"

"It's what you always tell me, right?"

Deacon sipped slowly from his beer. "I think I've always put it more elegantly than that."

"Well I ain't elegant."

Deacon smiled. "You should work on that." It felt good, this conversation with his son. It felt genuine. It felt like they might actually be moving forward. "So do you want to come home for Easter?"

"You're going to call me out of exile, huh? Seems a fitting time. Around Passover and all."

"Maybe you should also stay for spring training the next week, so we can start getting you ready for next season. Then you can head back to the ranch, finish out your program there, come back in August for summer training." Eric didn't jump at the chance as readily as Deacon expected. Eric had been so pissed off when Deacon had taken him off the team, that he thought Eric would be thrilled he was allowing him to dip his toe back in. "Eric?" he asked.

"Who's going to be first string next season?"

"You, of course. Mo's a decent player, but he can't hold a candle to you. And he's not as coachable as you are."

"You think I'm coachable? I thought you thought I was a lost cause."

"I never thought that, Eric." He took another swig of his beer and swallowed it down, hard. "I thought _I_ was."

"What do you mean?"

"I thought I wasn't capable of being the father you needed."

There was a stunned silence on the other end of the line.

"Eric?"

"So…uh…March 31? You'll pick me up for Easter and then spring training?"

"Yeah, son. Yeah. I'll be there."

[*]

Tami opened her locker to find a single red rose. She picked it up, sniffed, and smiled. When the locker clicked shut, Mo grabbed her from behind. She squealed and turned. She bopped him on the nose with the rose and then kissed him. "Thank you."

He grinned. "What makes you think it was me?"

She rolled her eyes. "Give me a ride home from rehearsal this afternoon?"

"I don't know. You going to give me something in return?"

"No promises."

She did give him something in return, though - kisses that steamed up the windows of his Mustang where it was parked in the far corner of the school parking lot. But when he slid a hand under her sweatshirt and squeezed her breast, she slid it back out. "I need to be getting home. I'm cooking tonight."

Mo sighed. He turned in his seat and started the car. He dropped her off alongside the curb by her house. Tami stopped to check the mail. She paged through the envelopes twice before she realized she was instinctively looking for a letter from Eric. It was much too early. He would have probably just received hers yesterday. Feeling slightly disappointed that she didn't have anything interesting to read, she headed inside.

[*]

Eric was writing Tami in his spiral notebook when Billy rolled out of his top bunk, his bare feet landing with a quiet thud on the ground. Eric hastily closed the spiral notebook.

"What ya hidin'?" Billy asked, scratching his bare stomach just above the boxers he'd slept in. "You writin' porn?"

"No. Just writing back to Tami." He'd taken a day to think about what he should say. It seemed like their letters were getting more personal.

"Ah." Billy opened the top dresser drawer and pulled out a pack of gum. He chewed all the time, to make up for the fact that he wasn't allowed to chew tobacco here. He popped a piece in his mouth. "You _like_ that girl."

"What? I don't even know her really."

Dante sat up on his bottom bunk bed and rubbed his eyes. "I hope for your sake she doesn't turn out to be C-list, because you're already half gone."

"I don't know what you're talking about. We're just pen pals. I told you. She's dating my teammate."

Dante and Billy glanced at each other and laughed.

Eric asked his grandfather for a stamp after breakfast. Grandpa Maddox gave him an entire sheet. "Seems like you're going to be writing this girl a lot." Eric ducked his head and took the stamps. He took the solitary, six acre walk to the mailbox and got back in time for his morning chores.

That night, after dinner, there was cake because Tiny was leaving them. He'd finished out his judge-ordered program, which meant he was free, and his mother had gotten cleaned up, which meant he got to go back home instead of to foster care. "This is going to mess up the teams," Eric said. "Tiny's our best defensive player."

"Well, you'll have to shuffle players around," Grandpa said. "That's what coaches do, right? Solve problems in a pinch?"

Being in charge of a football team was a lot harder than Eric had guessed. No wonder his father seemed so intense a lot of the time. Eric's mother had kept him relaxed and mild, but he'd been wound tight this past year. It seemed like he was easing back into his old self lately, though. Maybe Eric was too, except he didn't think so. He thought maybe he was becoming his _new_ self. More grounded, more mature, less in need of the approval of others, and yet more uncertain than ever about what he wanted out of life.

[*]

Tami's back pressed against the dark green cinderblock wall beneath the stairwell. She'd run into Mo during second period, when both were on a bathroom break. His tongue tangled with hers now. He'd slipped his hands under her fuzzy white sweater, but she hadn't stopped him this time, because they were just on her back. But then she felt her bra unclasp and her breast spill free. Before he could move his hands around to the front to fondle her, she pulled away. "Mo!" she scolded. "Wer're in school!"

"No one's here," he insisted. "Everyone's in class."

She pulled the bra back down over her breasts, reached behind herself and fastened it again.

"C'mon," he pleaded. "Just let me play for a little bit. Please?"

"No!" Tami picked up her backpack and, annoyed, headed back to class.

There was no rehearsal today, but Mo found her by her locker at the final bell. "I'm sorry," he said, leaning his shoulder again the locker. "I really thought you wanted me to."

She wondered why he would think that. She'd taken his hand out from under her shirt in the car the day before yesterday.

"I'm sorry," he said again. "Let me make it up to you. Let's go to the movies Saturday. Your pick. Anything you want. Hell, I'll even watch a romantic comedy." He grinned. He had the cutest smile.

"Okay," she agreed, finding a smile tugging at her lips. "We'll see _Lovesick_."

"Want a ride home?"

"Not today. I really need the exercise. And I always walk with Kim on days we don't have rehearsal."

On the way home, she told Kim about Mo's recent moves, and her own push back. "Don't hold it against him," Kim told her. "All guys are like that. You have to play defense. It's just the way it is. As long as he keeps coming back for more when you say no...he really likes you." She pointed a finger at Tami. "But don't give in just to keep him."

"I won't. Hey, do you ever hear about Eric Taylor?"

Kim was new to the school, too, so she wouldn't have known him personally. "Just that he's Coach Taylor's son and he got arrested for DUI a couple times or something, so Coach Taylor sent him to some home for troubled teens on the Mexican border."

"Really?" Tami asked. "DUI? He does't seem like the drunk type. He seems pretty nice, actually."

"You know him?"

"We've been writing each other, for that pen pal project for English."

"Oh, I'm so glad Mrs. Harrison didn't assign us that."

The subject changed, but Tami kept marveling at the idea of Eric being _arrested_. His father seemed so nice. _He_ seemed so nice. But she knew something had to have landed him on that ranch. She wondered if he'd turned to alcohol to self-medicate after his mom died. She couldn't blame him if he had. No wonder he was embarrassed to say why he was at the ranch.

When she got home, she eagerly checked the mail, but Eric's reply letter had not yet arrived, of course. It was still too early.

At dinner that night, her aunt asked her, "Shouldn't you have gotten your quarter report card by now?"

"Oh, yeah," Tami said. "It came out a week ago."

"Well don't you need me to sign yours?"

"No, you only have to sign them if any grade is lower than a B."

Aunt Bonnie grinned. "So you got all As and Bs?"

"I got all As," Tami said. If she did't sound particularly proud, it was because it was nothing new to her. She'd gotten All As her freshman year, and all Bs her sophomore year. It wasn't until the start of her junior year that her grades really hit the toilet, which was partly why she was here.

"Well that's great, girl! Keep this up, and you could get into a really good college, you know!"

"I can't afford a really good college."

"Sure you can," Bonnie said. "You can get partial scholarships at least, I'm sure, and whatever else you need, well, I've got college funds for both you and Shelley."

"What? Wait. You do?"

She nodded and reached for her sweet tea. "I thought your mom would have told you?"

Tami shook her head. "How do you have money for two college funds? Counselors don't make that much, do they?"

"I made a bunch of money writing novels under a pen name when I was younger."

Tami's mouth fell open. She pushed her plate aside. "What's your pen name?"

"You don't need to know that."

Tami leaned forward with glee. "Why? Did you write _erotica_ or something?"

"No, but they were really vapid romance novels. A bit trashy. Not erotica, but not anything I'm really proud of either. They sold well enough - mid-list stuff, and I banked the money. But I'm trying to be a professional counselor now, so I don't talk about them. I wrote five."

"Five!"

"Don't tell anyone. No one knows but your mother, and she just judges me for it. She's happy she doesn't have to help you with college, but she still judges me for it. But the money is there. You could go to an ivy league if you wanted."

Tami laughed. "I'm not getting into an ivy league. I almost dropped out last semester my grades were so bad."

"Yeah, but they were good before that, and you have straight As now. Take the advanced classes next year. With the extra weight from those, straight As - you could finish your senior year with a 3.4."

"3.4 is not an ivy league GPA."

"Knock your SAT's out of the park and - "

"- Auntie. You're being ridiculous. I might get into UT-Dallas if I'm lucky. Or UNT."

"At least UT-Austin, Tami. Don't set your sights so low. You know, Deacon is encouraging his son to make it all the way to the NFL. There's nothing wrong with having big dreams or people who believe in you."

"Unless those people have totally unrealistic expectations," Tami said. "Then it's kind of a lot of pressure."

"Sorry," Aunt Bonnie apologized. "I didn't mean to make you feel pressured. I just want you to know I really believe you can do it."

After dinner, Tami went to her bedroom and pulled open the filing cabinet drawer in her desk. Tami took out the manila folder where she stored all of her cards and letters from her mom, Shelley, and Eric. She set aside Shelley's latest missive and found herself re-reading all of Eric's old letters.


	18. Chapter 18

The next day, Tami made out with Mo for a few minutes when he dropped her off after rehearsal. He didn't try to put his hand up her shirt again, and when she said she had to go, he said, "Saturday night? Right?"

She nodded and let herself out of his car. The mail hadn't come yet. She went inside and did her homework. When her aunt got home from work and began cooking, Tami set the table. Just two plates. She liked living with her aunt, but she found herself strangely missing Shelley's dinner time chatter. She'd see her sister over Easter weekend, at least. Aunt Bonnie was driving her to Houston on Good Friday, and they'd be reutrning to Euless together on Easter Monday.

"I'm going to run check the mail," Tami said. She thought it should be here by now.

Her aunt, who was filling a pot with water to boil the pasta, looked out the kitchen window. "No!" she insisted. "I will!" She put the pot on the stove, turned it on, and disappeared quickly out the kitchen door.

Curious at her aunt's eagerness to do the menial chore of fetching mail, Tami glanced out the window. Coach Taylor was at his mailbox at the curb, which was just a few feet from theirs. He saw Tami's aunt coming his way and started pulling out his mail more slowly, piece by single piece, and stacking it neatly, until she got there.

Tami watched her aunt talk with him, using her hands as she so frequently did. Coach Taylor leaned an arm atop the mailbox as he replied. Aunt Bonnie stepped closer. For a minute, they appeared to be confering about some serious matter, but the next second, the mail was on the curb, Coach Taylor's arm was around Aunt Bonnie's waist, and her lips were on his lips.

Tami's eyes widened and, feeling suddenly like a voyeur, she turned away from the window. When the kitchen door opened, she made herself seem busy stirring the pasta. Aunt Bonnie dropped the pile of mail on the counter top.

"You pick everything up?" Tami asked. "You didn't leave any on the ground, did you? I'm expecting a letter from Eric."

"On the ground?" Aunt Bonnie's cheeks redden slightly.

Shoot. Tami hadn't meant to reveal she'd been watching, but she _was_ worried Eric's letter might have been lost.

"You saw us?"

"Sort of," Tami admitted. "So are you dating Coach Taylor again now?"

"Well, he did ask me if I wanted to go with him to see your musical next Friday. But I suggested that before we do that, we go line dancing again this Saturday at Billy Bob's. He's not a bad dancer at all. Is that okay with you?"

"Why wouldn't it be okay with me?" Tami asked.

"I have to be able to trust you to be responsible alone that night."

"Mo and I are going to the movies."

"I know. And I'll be in Forth Worth. _That's_ why I have to trust you to be responsible."

Tami snorted and rolled her eyes. She knew Aunt Bonnie hated it almost as her own mother did when she rolled her eyes, but sometimes she couldn't help it. It was an instinctive reaction to people saying stupid things - like jerking your hand back from a hot stove. "Do you seriously think I'm less likely to do something naughty with Mo if you're in Euless than if you're in Fort Worth? There's always his house or the back seat of his Mustang." Tami never would have said such a thing to her mother. She probably shouldn't have said it to her aunt, but she was getting so used to frankness in this house, that the question just slipped out.

"Tami, be smart."

"I _am_ being smart," she insisted, the defiance leaving her voice. She _wanted_ her aunt's respect, even if she'd stopped believing she could ever earn her mother's. "I'm taking it slowly with Mo. I'm _not_ having sex with him Friday night. Or anything close to sex."

"I'm glad to hear that," Aunt Bonnie said. She slid a loaf of French bread out of its wrapper and began cutting it up. "Because you're young. And the only way to know if a boy likes you for _you_ and not for _that_ is to wait to give him _that_ until you know he likes _you._ "

Tami smirked. "Are you going to take your own advice, Auntie?"

Aunt Bonnie stopped cutting and raised her eyebrow at Tami. "What?"

 _"_ I hope _you'll_ be smart. I don't know about that Coach Taylor. Sometimes he just suddenly kisses women in front of his mailbox. And his pick-up has that giant bed."

Aunt Bonnie flushed. "We're taking my car. And your letter from Eric is right there." She motioned at the pile of mail with her knife. "You better go read it while I get dinner ready."

It was an obvious distraction, but it worked. Tami snatched up the letter and disappeared to her room. Stomach down on her comforter, she began reading Eric's letter:

 _February 21, 1983_

 _Dear Tami,_

 _So I think I talked my dad into asking your aunt out again, so you better be right about her liking him, and she better say YES. Otherwise I'm going to feel like a jerk for setting him up to get knocked down again._

 _You forgot to enclose that photo. Send one next time. Or don't. I'm going to be home for Easter weekend and that week after I'm going to spring training at Bowie beofre I head back to the ranch, so I guess I'll see what you look like then._

As much as Tami wanted to see Shelley, she now regretted that she'd be going back to Houston for Easter. But she'd have to meet Eric on Tuesday, at least, if he was staying for spring training. Tami felt unexpectedly nervous about the prospect.

 _What do I think of Mo? I think he holds onto the ball too long and risks too many sacks. And I think he talks too much in the huddle. We don't have a lot of time in there. But I think he's pretty good at passing once he gets that thing off. I think he's more likely to overshoot than undershoot. I think he's going back to second string next season when I'm back on the team. I think he won't get a football scholarship to college, but he'll get on a team somewhere, and then he'll mostly warm the bench, so he'll decide it's not worth the effort and quit the team after his freshman year. Then he'll be a business major so he can run his own business like his dad does and make a bunch of money when he gets out of college. I don't know what he'll sell, but he'll sell something. He always raised the most money for the team fundraiser whenever we had to sell that stupid wrapping paper door to door at Christmas time. He could get anyone to buy it. He can get anyone to buy anything._

Well that wasn't exactly the feedback she'd been looking for. She didn't care what kind of football player Mo was. The part about him being able to sell anything was interesting, though. He'd sure sold her quickly on not being irritated at him for trying to undress her under the stairwell without even asking first.

 _May I remind you that you asked me about my virginity before I asked you about yours? And I wouldn't have assumed you lost it if you hadn't asked me like it's just a given that everyone has. Besides, I don't care when or if you lost your virginity. It's not my business when a girl loses her virginity unless I'm the one taking it. Which I've never done, by the way. Had sex with a virgin, I mean. That seems to be a big deal to girls, so I don't think I'd want to be the guy taking it. I guess that's why I mostly dated older girls. Of course more of those have turned out to be virgins than I would have guessed._

Tami had a lot of conflicted feelings about this passage. It made her angry at the boy who had so casually taken her virginity. It _was_ a big deal. Why had he pressured her and made her believe it meant something to him? But worse, why had she been so _stupid_ as to imagine it did, when she hardly knew him?

The passage also made her feel a little bit of respect for Eric for being unwilling to be so casual in taking a girl's virginity. On the other hand, he seemed perfectly willing to be casual about girls who _had_ lost their virginities. Did that mean he thought sex with a non-virgin was automatically no big deal? If so, was that how _all_ boys thought? Now that she'd lost hers, was she just supposed to be fair game? Willing to put out for the next boyfriend who came along? Is that what Mo expected? The idea pissed her off. Of course, Mo didn't know she _wasn't_ a virgin. And she had no plans to tell him otherwise. God, she hoped Eric didn't tell Mo the things they'd been writing each other when they were training together. He wouldn't, she decided. If he did, she had a thing or two she could hold over his head.

Tami read on:

 _You're wrong. Plenty of cool girls hang out with the football team. Well, the coolest ones already have boyfriends on the team, though, and I don't ever make a move on some other guy's girl._

 _The ones that just jump around from guy to guy, though, are kind of…I don't know. Shallow? Boring? I mean, they're pretty, but then they open their mouths and start talking…I don't know._

Tami tried not to laugh at that, but she couldn't help it. She knew what he meant. Some of these girls who hung out around the DQ, shooting jealous looks at Tami when she was eating off of Mo's spoon, and flirting with the other players, just said the dumbest things.

 _And no, not EVERY girl I dated last semester were cheerleaders or on the drill team. One was actually in the marching band. Another one was getting her RN at Euless community college. But, okay, she did use to be a cheerleader at Bowie._

Tami felt a moment of shock to think he'd dated a college girl, but then she considered that she'd technically still been only 15 when she'd lost her virginity to that senior boy. It was only a two year's age difference in either case.

 _Onto your questions…_

 _My favorite board game is Risk. I like the strategy, mapping out the plays in my mind, where I'm going to attack, playing both offense and defense._

 _Church? Depends on the season. My dad worships at the shrine of footblall in the fall. We do go to chruch the rest of the year, though. First United Methodist. Why? Is my dad not going anymore? I wonder if he just did that because my mom made him. We did go less last year, now that I think of it. Even when it wasn't football season we were only going about once a month._

 _What animal...I'd be a unicorn, of course. Oh, wait, was I not supposed to answer that one?_

Tami snorted.

 _The thing I miss most about my mom is her chocolate chip cookies. I know that sounds lame, but every Thursday in the fall, when I'd come home from school, she'd have warm chocolate chip cookies sitting on the counter, just waiting for me, and there'd be a note to wish me good luck on my game the next day. She always said something a little different, but she always ended it the same way – win or lose, I'm proud of you. It always made me feel less stressed out about playing for some reason._

Tami hated and loved how Eric's letters did this to her – made her want to go from laughing to crying in the space of just two paragraphs.

 _So, I guess I'm supposed to send four questions for you too? Here goes:_

 _(1) Do you want to go to college? What do you want to study if you do?_

 _(2) So who are you going to root for now that you've moved from Houston to the DFW area? The Oilers or the Cowboys?_

 _(3) Who do you think would win in a fight – Superman or Batman?_

Tami laughed because he'd imitated her by crossing that out and writing – _Never mind. Stupid question._

 _(4) Do you miss your dad a lot, or are you kind of glad he's out of your life now since he wasn't a good dad to begin with? Is it easier or harder that way?_

 _Sincerely,_

 _Eric_


	19. Chapter 19

Tami wrote Eric back the next morning:

 _February 25, 1983_

 _Dear Eric,_

 _Busy weekend ahead. I'm going to dinner and the movies with Mo tonight. He's taking me to a romantic comedy. Isn't that sweet of him?_ _On Sunday we have a dress rehearsal in the afternoon for the musical next weekend. He has a really nice singing voice. So do you not like Mo? Like, as a friend / person / human individual? Because you've been really vague about him._

 _Your dad and my aunt are going line dancing tonight, too. IN FACT - I saw them kissing by the mailbox yesterday. So you don't have to feel like a jerk about telling him to ask her out again. Does that mean you don't mind if he dates her? She's pretty cool, actually, just so you know._

 _Did I ever tell you that I found out why you're at the ranch through the grapevine? DUI? Really? I guess I can't judge you for being stupid and getting drunk - I did that a few times my sophomore year. I guess I was pissed off about my dad taking off, and I felt kind of out of place with all my friends who had both parents. I just wanted to fit in and maybe get some attention from guys. It all seems kind of stupid now. But I never drove when I was drunk. Of course, I didn't have my license either. I just got it a month before I moved here. I don't drink at all anymore. Beer I mean. Or Southern Comfort. Or any of that stuff. I drink a lot of Diet Dr. Pepper. Did you drink a lot because your mom died? Do you still? I guess you can't on that ranch unless someone sneaks it in, huh?_

 _I won't be here Easter weekend - going back to Houston to spend it with my mom and annoying little sis (okay, I totally miss her), but I guess I'll see you in school that Tuesday, if you'll be there for training the rest of the week. So I guess there's no point in enclosing a photo now. You'll see me in person. I'm blonde with blue eyes. That narrows it down a lot, huh? My hair has kind of a red tint to it, if that helps. Strawberry blonde, they call it. Mo calls it orange. It is NOT orange._

 _So you only have sex with non-virgins, huh? Do you expect every non-virgin you date to automatically want to have sex with you? What's the longest you've ever dated anyone, anyway? It's sounds like you like to play the field. Not like Mo. When we talked on the phone last night, he said he doesn't want me dating anyone else, which I assume means we're going steady. I think he might give me a ring or something tonight. I wouldn't be surprised, anyway._

 _That's sweet what your mom did. She sounds like a great mom. If I ever have kids, I'm going to try to be the most awesome mom ever. But I'm not going to be one of those stay-at-home moms like my mom was. She was - excuse my French - shit out of luck when my dad left her and flaked out on child support too. She had to go back to work and couldn't make much. Lucky for me my aunt said she'll help me with college, which answers one of your questions - yes, I want to go to college. Probably UT-Dallas or UNT because it's cheap and not super hard to get into. I'm trying to be realistic here, though my aunt says I can apply to an ivy if I want. I think she's out of her mind. With my GPA? I'm going to pull it up, but, still. What I want to major in I don't know. Drama, maybe, but that's not real practical. Education? Maybe I can do both and be a drama teacher. Or administration, and I could be a principal. Or political science, and maybe I can be governor of Texas one day. Might as well dream big, huh?_

 _I'll root for the Cowboys unless they play the Oilers, then it's the Oilers. Sorry. But home is home._

 _Batman would totally win because he'd just bring kryptonite._

 _I do miss my dad. He was always erratic, but when he WAS being a dad - he was a lot of fun. It didn't make up for all the times he wasn't around, but it was something. Now he doesn't even call. He could be dead for all I know. I don't guess I really miss him so much as I miss the idea of having a dad. My aunt says I don't know what to look for in a man because I never really had that role model in a dad, so she's been giving me a list of things to look for - responsible, faithful, loyal, diligent, hard working - I had to interrupt her and ask, "What about a nice ass? Is that on your list?" She was not amused. She kept adding more to the list - intelligent, able to apologize, good humored... I totally flustered her by asking if she saw those things in your dad. She turned bright red. It was pretty funny._

 _What if they got married one day? I think my aunt wants to stay single, but what if they did? What would that make us? Like...cousins? Guess we could never kiss then. Not that we were ever planning to, I'm just saying, that would rule out the possibility._

 _Uh-oh. Now I'm just rambling. I better stop writing this and get all my studying done so Mo and I can have fun tonight._

 _But I have to leave you with questions, right? Okay-_

 _1 - First kiss? How old, who, what was it like?_

 _2 - Where do you want to go to college? I assume you're expecting a football scholarship, to hear your dad talk about it. What would be your number one place?_

 _3- Least favorite cartoon character?_

 _4 - After you sow your wild oats and then get married in your mid to late thirties - yeah, I remember your plan - do you want to have kids? How many?_

 _Sincerely,_

 _Tami_

[*]

The aftershave was pungent. Coach Taylor had splashed on too much. He rinsed his face with warm water and then dried it before checking himself in the mirror. No visible nose hairs. No cow lick on the back of his head. He folded down his collar. He breathed on his hand to check his breath. Minty fresh. Was there anything he was forgetting?

As he made his way out of the master bathroom, his eyes fell on the framed photo he still kept on his dresser - Ivy and Eric. Eric was only seven in that one, and Ivy was grinning down at him. He felt a sudden stab of guilt, but it was interrupted by the doorbell.

Bonnie had insisted on driving. Deacon didn't know what she thought he was going to try to pull if he drove, but he decided it was best to let that slide. She felt better about dating him if she was in control of the car. So be it.

He didn't say much until they were on the highway heading for Fort Worth, when he ventured, "Sorry about the kiss. I really thought you were leaning in to kiss me."

"I was just getting ready to lean down to pick up the mail I accidentally dropped," she replied.

"I realized that after you pulled away."

She smiled. "Well, it wasn't a _bad_ kiss. I mean, I'm still going out with you aren't I?"

"You're not letting me drive, though." He fumbled under the passenger's side seat because his legs were cramped. When the cool metal lever touched his fingers, he popped the seat back a couple of inches. "Is that a third date privilege?"

"There are no guarantees," Bonnie said. "You're not entitled to anything at any time just because we've been on x number of dates."

Deacon whistled. "You really like to lay things out, don't you?"

"I find it helps to avoid misunderstandings." She reached for the radio and turned on the country music station.

"But Eric was right, no _does_ just meant ask again later?"

"Eric?" she asked.

"He told me that Tami told him that you liked me. _Liked me_ liked me, as the kids say."

"Those two are getting to be quite the friends, aren't they?" Bonnie turned her head slightly to look at him. "Wait a minute. Does your son have a girlfriend?"

Deacon pointed to the road. Bonnie slammed on her brakes and then changed lanes. "No one serious," he answered. "He hasn't had a serious girlfriend since ninth grade, but he's gone on a lot of dates this past year."

"Hmmm...one of _those_ guys, huh? He better not be trying to work his way into my niece's pants."

"I've tried to teach him to respect girls. But Eric's good-looking, he's athletic, he's talented. He's an excellent quarterback. He doesn't have to work for sex. That's part of his problem." He shrugged. "Of course, I didn't have to either when I was his age."

"No? You were a playboy, huh?"

"I was immature. Eric at least was interested in having a _real_ girlfriend before his mom died. But I was worse than him. I had no interest in a genuine relationship until I met Ivy. She made me realize some things are _worth_ working for. She was my first steady girlfriend. My first love."

"Really?" Bonnie asked with a raised eyebrow. "Wow. I've been in love five times already."

"You fall that easily?" he asked.

Maybe there was a note of caution in his voice, because she said, "Don't worry. I'm not in love with you, Deacon. I like you, though." She smiled at him. "I might even _like you_ like you."

He pointed to the road again.

She slammed on her brakes, then flicked the turn signal angrily. Bonnie sped up and went around the car in front of her, muttering, "What are all the Sunday drivers doing out on a Saturday?"


	20. Chapter 20

Tami got home late from her dress rehearsal for her musical. She and Mo had been making out backstage in the costume closet when they didn't have to be on. It was mildly thrilling, but Tammy was intermittently annoyed by how handsy Mo became. His hands were always up her shirt and on her breasts these days. She'd given into the inevitably of it all. It wasn't as if she was letting him into her _pants_ yet, after all. Besides, she liked his touch well enough, she just wished he was less of a squeezer and more of a caresser.

When she got home, she saw the firepit glowing in Coach Taylor's backyard and heard her aunt laughing. Tami could make out her aunt's arm, with the silver charm bracelet she loved to wear, and the glass of wine in her hand, but she couldn't see Coach Taylor around the edge of the house.

When she got inside, she immediately rummaged through the mail. She wasn't expecting a letter from Eric until tomorrow or Monday, but it was already there, and the envelope was thicker than usual. She couldn't believe how long the letter was this time, three college-ruled sheets of paper.

 _March 1, 1983_

 _Dear Tami,_

 _Sorry I don't get to see your musical on Saturday. Guess you'll have had your first performance by the time you get this. How did it go? I'd love to see Mo sing. That's got to be hilarious. I've heard he's good though. That's one of the reason girls like him, I guess. Girls seem to like guys who can sing. And who take them to romantic comedies, I guess. That's a huge sacrifice, like throwing your coat down on a puddle or something, huh? Me, if I take a girl out, I always take her to an action flick. Everyone knows you get more action at an action flick than you do at a romance. It really puts girls in the mood._

 _So I called my dad and asked him about his big line dancing date with your aunt. I think he was shocked I called him. I haven't done that since I've been here. He always calls me. Anyway, he wouldn't say much about her, but I'm getting this vibe that he actually likes her. I still think it's weird, him dating._

 _So now you know. Yeah. DUI. I guess you can't keep secrets in a small town, huh? Not that Euless is all that small. Don't be so self-righteous about it, though. Sounds like the only reason YOU haven't gotten a DUI is that you can get guys like Mo to drive you wherever you want to go._

 _So did you get sent away for the same reason I did? Bad grades and too much drinking? My grades weren't as bad as yours, though. I had a C average. I didn't almost flunk out. I guess getting arrested is a bigger deal than that, though. I don't drink anymore either. I'm not saying I never will again, like after a big win or something, when I get back to Euless. But I think I'm done driving through corn fields and sleeping it off in the drunk tank. (I didn't really sleep it off. My dad bailed me out so he could yell at me while I was still a little buzzed.)_

 _That's not what embarrassed you though, was it? Back at your old school? Drinking and bad grades? What DID embarrass you? I guess you're never gong to say because...yeah. It embarrasses you. Promise I won't make fun, though._

 _So, in answer to your question - If a girl dates me, and she's NOT a virgin, yeah, I assume she probably wants to have sex with me. That's WHY she's dating me. She's not doing it for my brilliant wit (my wit's kind of average) or my singing ability (which is completely nonexistent) or for the romantic comedies (because I only do action films, remember). So yeah, I DO expect it. But I date virgins, too. I don't discriminate. And I don't have sex with virgins, which means I haven't actually had that much sex, because there are more virgins out there than you know. I'd never have guessed that from all the b.s. stories I've heard in the locker room._

Tami knew that. She'd realized teenagers having sex wasn't nearly as common as she thought after she'd thrown her own virginity away on that jerk. But she'd thought _everyone_ was having sex back then, and she was "the prude," with the religious mom, who got too-good grades, and who wasn't even allowed to wear short skirts. She'd wanted to change that prudish image. She'd changed it all right. She'd become "the slut" almost overnight. It seemed there was no way for a girl to win when it came to sex in high school - damned if you do, damned if you don't. Tease, prude, slut, or whore. Take your pick.

It made her angry.

 _So, no, I don't have to have sex with every girl I date, but I don't date most for long anyway._

 _God, I sound like an ass when I re-read that line. No wonder my father gave me that lecture._

Tami wondered what a lecture from Coach Taylor would be like. He'd never said so much as "Boo!" to her, though she'd sometimes see him in the gym, on her way to class, hands on his hips, boys all taking a knee around him and listening to some monologue she couldn't hear. Maybe it sucked to have a coach for a father, who was always lecturing you and disciplining you and pointing out your need for improvement, and expecting so much of you, but it was better than having no father at all. She wondered if Eric really appreciated that.

 _Don't get me wrong. I'm not opposed to a steady girlfriend, in theory, and I've never cheated on a girl. If I'm seeing more than one person, every person I'm seeing KNOWS. Because I really don't think it's cool to not let a girl know you've got another girlfriend in like another town or something. It's just that I haven't found anyone I want to go steady with, and I guess I haven't really been in "relationship condition" lately. The one time I had a steady relationship, it didn't end so well. She kind of ripped my heart out of my chest and then stomped all over it._

 _I have no idea why I'm telling you this stuff. I swear to God, if you ever show these letters to anyone, I'll….come up with something._

 _So, Governor of Texas is a cool goal and all, but I don't know what you think is so wrong about being a stay-at-home mom. That's kind of like being governor of your own house, isn't it? And Treasurer. And Secretary of Education. And Secretary of Housing and Planning. And Surgeon General. My mom was a stay-at-home mom, at least from the time I was born until I was in junior high school. It was GREAT. It made my dad's life a lot easier, I tell you what. Made my life easier too. Nothing wrong with making people's lives easier. That ship ran smoothly when she was in charge. I guess I get what you're saying, though, about needing to be able to support yourself if your husband is a jerk or you get walked out on like your mom did. But my mom didn't have to worry about that. My dad would sooner cut off his throwing arm than walk out on her._

 _Which is why it's kind of weird he's dating your aunt._

 _Really weird._

 _So... (Last semester in English Mrs. Wilcox said I really have to work on my paragraph transitions. Apparently I use SO too much. I don't know why you have to transition at all. I know where I've been. I just want to get where I'm going. Who needs to transition?)_

 _So...how are you at the SAT? Have you done a practice test yet? Because your GPA might not be good enough for a good school, but if you kick butt on the SAT, that can be enough. You don't have to settle for UNT. (Not that that would be so bad. You know, Principal Martin graduated from UNT and he's, like, principal.) I did pretty well on the PSAT, so I think I'll do fine on the SAT, and I'm not that worried about my grades, except for the fact that my dad blows a gasket if I get less than a B in anything. But as long as I keep a C average, they're going to accept me just because of the football. He knows that and he STILL rides me about my grades. When am I ever going to use any of this stuff? Who cares? I want to go to A &M, but it depends where I get the best scholarship. I'd consider Oklahoma if the deal was sweet enough._

 _My dad is NOT marrying your aunt. If he did, I don't think that would make us cousins. Or if it did, we'd be like second cousins once removed or something. I never understood how that cousin thing works. My friend Billy here says that in Texas you can legally marry your first cousin once removed, but not your first cousin. I don't think I want to know why he knows that._

 _Onto your questions..._

 _1\. My first kiss was Kimberley Rider. She was thirteen and I was twelve and it lasted nine seconds. Yes, I counted. We were playing spin the bottle at a junior high football party, and she was the prettiest girl in that whole school. I made the bottle land on her. I kind of practiced before the party, because my buddy told me we were going to play. I must have been a good kisser, because she asked me to the 7th grade dance, but she never became my girlfriend, because she ended up dancing with my buddy more than me. They were still "dating" after 8th grade when I moved from Dillon to Euless. That was not the girl who stomped on my heart, though. That the girl I started dating in 9th grade. We broke up after my mom died._

 _2\. Answered that. A &M._

 _3\. Tweety bird. I just want Silvester to get him once. JUST ONCE._

 _4\. Yeah, sure I'm all for kids when I finally settle down. Four. At least one girl and one boy and then I don't care what the other two are. I hated being an only child. You get blamed for EVERYTHING. And they expect so much of you._

Four kids! That was not the answer Tami had been expecting from a guy, especially a guy with a DUI who didn't have sex with non-virgins and who wanted to "sow his wild oats." He probably thought it would be no work for him, that his stay-at-home wife would do it all. Maybe that's why Coach Taylor had needed to send him away to the ranch – because his wife had done _everything_ and he didn't know how to raise Eric on his own. Aunt Bonnie better consider what she was getting into with that man. He might be a bit of a chauvinist pig. Except, he seemed to be really nice. He'd always been nice to Tami, anyway, and he seemed to be treating her aunt well.

That thought made Tami curious, and she went and peered out the living room window that overlooked Coach Taylor's backyard. They were on the bench seat now. Her aunt had abandoned the lawn chair she'd been sitting in earlier, and he had his arm around her and his head leaned back, his coach's cap tilted down slightly over his eyes. Aunt Bonnie's head was on his shoulder. Tami didn't know if he was asleep or looking at the stars, but they both looked very relaxed.

For a fleeting moment, Tami wished her mother would date someone like Coach Taylor. She'd never wanted her mother to date before, and she would be gone from home in less than two years, but the idea that Shelley could have a stable, responsible, strict father figure around the house appealed to her. Shelley was getting a little flaky when it came to her constantly shifting interests, and Tami wasn't sure about her friends, one of whom had already been caught smoking and drinking. In 8th grade!

Tami shut the blinds and read the rest of Eric's letter.

 _Okay, your turn. I'm running out of question ideas, but….here goes:_

 _1\. Why are you dating Mo? Just because he's the first guy who asked you out at Bowie High, or because you really like him?_

 _2\. First real boyfriend? How long did you date him?_

 _3\. Favorite holiday?_

 _4\. Worst book you were ever forced to read?_

 _Sincerely,_

 _Eric_

It was already late, and Tami had to be to school at 10 AM to prepare for the 1 PM matinee for the musical tomorrow, but she pulled out a pen and sheet of paper and started writing Eric back anyway.


	21. Chapter 21

Coach Taylor lay a hand gently on the side of Bonnie's breast and began caressing it through the thin cotton of her sweater. The wine glasses were on the cement porch under the bench, and the fire pit had receded to a low glow. She pulled away.

Deacon sighed. He put his hand on his knee. She never let him get very far. Not even as far as he'd gotten on a typical first date in 9th grade. And frankly, he was horny as hell. It had been a long time since he'd had sex. A _very_ long time. And Bonnie was…well…she was fun. Lively. Unpredictable. He suspected she'd be no different in bed. What the hell was he doing that was so wrong that he couldn't even manage to get past first base?

Maybe it was the fact that he even _thought_ of it as first base. God, it had been a long time since he'd dated. He hadn't even really dated Ivy. They'd been friends, and then he'd been in love, and then they'd been married. And _then_ they'd had sex, because, even though Warren Maddox thought Deacon Taylor had knocked up his daughter, Ivy had actually said "no sex until the wedding night." No girl had ever said anything like that to him before. It might have explained his rush to the altar, in retrospect, but he'd never regretted marrying that woman.

The last time he'd gone on a _date_ , though, he'd still been a teenager. And those girls had practically thrown themselves at him, even back then, pre-sexual revolution. They might not have wanted to go all the way, but they sure had wanted to go a good part of the way. Bonnie just seemed to want to pedal in place.

"I should probably be going," she said. "I saw the light on in Tami's room. She's home. She's going to be wondering what I've been doing over here for so long."

"Well, you haven't been doing a thing."

Bonnie raised an eyebrow.

He immediately regretted his tone and modified it. "I had a good time tonight. Did you?" He wondered if she had. He seriously wondered.

"I did," she said. "Thank you for the wine."

She slid away from him on the bench and seemed about to stand up when she paused. "Deacon, may I be I frank with you?"

"You always are." He stared into the glowing embers. "So go ahead and pull the bandaid off." He'd tried so hard to grow up for Ivy, to be a dependable husband and father, that maybe he'd grown up _too much_. He figured Bonnie was probably going to say that she'd decided she wasn't attracted to him, that he was too square for her. Not that anyone used that word anymore, _square_. That was kind of a square word to use. But she would say he was too boring, perhaps. Predictable. Unadventurous. Not the sort of younger, exciting, and more enlightened men she was used to dating.

"I really like you."

Or maybe she _wasn't_ going to say that.

"I do, but…"

Or maybe she _was._

"…I want to take things slowly. Maybe very slowly. And I completely understand if you don't want to do that. You're a man, and a fairly..." She smiled, " _masculine_ man at that. I'm sure you had a vigorous sex life with your wife."

Coach Taylor flushed as red as the embers in the fire pit.

"So if you'd rather not continue this, and you'd rather date someone who will jump into bed with you sooner, I won't hold it against you. We can still be friends."

"I don't want jump in bed with someone else. I want to jump in bed with you." _Oh shit._ Had he really said that? In those words?

She laughed. "Well, it's not going to happen anytime soon."

"Very well."

"Very well?"

"Mhm." He nodded. "Very well."

"Very well…you're ending it?"

"No! Very well, I'll….wait."

"It could be a long wait," she warned him.

"I've got not nothing better to do with my free time."

She laughed again. She leaned in and kissed him, softly, with a little tongue. Bonnie pulled away and glanced up at the lighted window in the second story of her small house next door. "I bet she's writing Eric. There was a letter from him on the counter."

"I wonder what they say to each other. My son's not much of a talker."

"I wonder where he gets _that_ from?" Bonnie asked with a twinkle in her green eyes.

"I was _listening_ tonight. To you. I'm a good listener. That's what Ivy always used to - " He stopped abruptly.

"You're going to mention her from time to time. It's okay. I'm not trying to compete with your dead wife. I'm sure there's no one who can compete anyway. You were married for years and years. But just because you had a six-course dinner doesn't mean you can't enjoy a burger."

Coach Taylor shifted his hat up on his head. "I don't think you're a burger. I think you're probably a fine sirloin that has to marinate for a long while."

She grimaced. "That was a terrible line."

He slid off his hat and scratched his forehead. "Yeah it was, wasn't it?"

"Kind of cute, though." She leaned over and kissed him again, more quickly this time, and stood. "I've really got to get going so I can get ready to steam open that envelope and read that letter Tami's just wrote."

"You do that?" Coach Taylor's voice rose on the _that._

Bonnie laughed. "No, of course not! Can't say I'm not _tempted,_ though."

He stood. "Well, if you ever succumb to temptation, let me know what's in them."

She smiled, waved goodbye, and headed back toward her house, as though he wasn't going to _walk_ her there. He corrected that misconception, and left her at the back door with another kiss.

[*]

When Tami came into the kitchen to put her envelope in the to-mail pile, Aunt Bonnie was looking out the window wistfully at Coach Taylor, who was cleaning out the ashes from his fire pit in the back yard.

"Why didn't you just stay longer instead of moping after him through the window?" Tami asked. "You're an adult. You don't have a curfew like me."

Aunt Bonnie turned around. "Is that a letter to Eric?"

"Nice subject change."

"Your curfew is perfectly reasonable, Tami. I'm not your mother, but I'm not your best friend either."

"No, you're the semi-cool aunt," Tami said with a smile. She opened the fridge and pulled out a diet Coke. "So tell me how not to be nervous about my musical tomorrow. And _don't_ tell me to imagine the audience naked. There are a lot of gnarly boys in that audience."

[*]

Tami wasn't expecting the flowers at the end of the show. She thought they were from Mo at first, until she realized they were from Aunt Bonnie. She'd watched from the front row. Coach Taylor had sat beside her, occasionally holding her hand throughout the production, which Tami guessed must mean their relationship was officially public. Not that either of them had been hiding it before, but it was one thing for them to date outside of a school and another for Tami to have to hear, "Who's the hot number with Coach Taylor?" backstage from the boys. "He's done well for himself!"

"Nice tits!" one said.

"Hey! That's my aunt!"

"Sorry, Tami."

Tami had thought drama was supposed to have a lot of gay guys. It hadn't worked out that way. All of these guys were not only _not_ gay, but they were too often trying to get a peak into the girl's dressing room.

Mo at least didn't join in the backslapping. He grinned at her, though, and asked, "So your aunt is _dating_ Coach Taylor? That's interesting."

"What's interesting about it?" she asked.

He shrugged. "I guess it's not weird for you. He's not your Coach. And he's not your teacher for anything."

"Because he doesn't teach anything." Other than a athletics class and a weight lifting class, which consisted primarily of his team members, Coach Taylor didn't teach. He served as an Athletic Director and apparently did a lot of paperwork and scheduling and ordering of equipment.

"I wonder how Eric's going to take Coach dating her," Mo mused. "He kind of flew off the handle when his mom died."

"Well, it's a big deal," Tami said. "Your mom dying! If everyone was expecting him to just go on as normal and act like nothing was wrong, no wonder he flew off the handle!"

"Why so defensive of Eric?" Mo asked suspiciously. "What's he telling you in those pen pal letters?"

"Nothing much. Just stuff about the ranch. It's just...you know. I lost my dad. Not the same way, but I didn't make the best choices after he took off."

"What kind of not-best choices did you make?"

Tami looked around at the actors and actresses moving in and out of the dressing rooms. "I need to get changed."

[*]

Later, when she exited the theater into the hallway, Aunt Bonnie was looking in the trophy case while Coach Taylor was telling her about Bowie Highs various sports awards. "And what's this one?" she asked, pointing to a plaque. "Texas High School Football Coach of the Year?"

"Aww...that...uh..." Coach Taylor scratched the back of his head. He didn't have his cap on. He'd come in khakis and a button down shirt tonight. "That was a losing season. I don't know why I got that. Something about building the boys' characters, they said."

Aunt Bonnie smiled. Coach Taylor noticed Tami and turned away from the case. Tami's aunt asked her, "Are you ready to head home?"

"I can take her, Ms. Hayes," Mo announced from behind her. He'd followed her out of the theater. "Some of the drama kids are going out for ice cream. Post-show, thing, you know."

"I don't know any ice cream place that is open past eleven p.m.," Aunt Bonnie said. "And it's 10:45. And Tami's curfew on Saturdays is midnight."

Mo scratched his ear. "Well...uh..."

"I hear the drama parties are worse than the football parties," Coach Taylor told Aunt Bonnie in a low whisper, though Tami heard. "Drugs instead of just alcohol."

"Yeah, I think Tami's going to catch a ride home with us, Mo," Aunt Bonnie said. "But you're welcome to take her out to brunch tomorrow." She smiled, put a hand on Tami's shoulder, and began ushering her out the door.

Tami was irritated at her aunt for being meddlesome, but she also hadn't really wanted to go to the after-party. After losing her virginity to a near stranger in another absolute stranger's bedroom, while music thundered downstairs, those kind of parties had lost their allure for her. "I'll call you," she told Mo over her shoulder.


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N:** _Sorry I've been a little slower on this story than my usual FNL fanfic, but I am trying to get an update in at least once a week. Thank you to all those who have taken the time to comment._

[*]

Eric found his grandfather alone in the kitchen, sitting at the table and writing checks to pay bills. "Mail come yet?" he asked. It seemed to be arriving later every day.

Grandpa motioned to a pile on the table, and Eric walked over and anxiously sorted through it. Grandpa chuckled. "You're really getting into this pen pal thing, aren't you?"

Eric drew out Tami's letter. He wanted to disappear to read it, but thought it would be rude to run off right away, so instead he sat down across from his grandfather. "She's a more interesting…uh…writer than I thought she'd be."

Grandpa tore of a check and slid it into an envelope.

"My dad's dating again," he said suddenly. It wasn't something he'd really talked about with Grandpa Maddox before.

"Is he?"

"Yeah. Can you believe that?"

"Well, it's been over a year. I'm not surprised. Before your mother, your father was – " Grandpa stopped talking and tore off another check. There must be a lot of bills, running a ranch like this.

"He was what?"

"He was a ladies' man."

" _My_ dad?" Eric chuckled. "No way."

"I used to be afraid he'd leave my daughter. Or cheat on her. But I was wrong about that. He was a devoted husband. I should have given him the benefit of the doubt." Grandpa Maddox looked across the table and smiled. He had a dimple in his wrinkled cheek. "You look a little stunned."

Eric shook his head. "Yeah. Well…it's just, he was always getting on my case about dating too many girls this past year. Said I should take my dating life more seriously. Said I needed to be more of a gentleman."

"And what do you think?"

Eric shrugged. "Think maybe he was right. Didn't really…I don't know. Didn't help me feel any less empty, all those girlfriends."

"Do you think that's what your father's doing now? Trying to fill a void?"

"Don't know. He's not running around with a bunch of women, though. I think he's only dating the one." He lifted the letter. "Tami's aunt."

"Is that why your anxious to read the letter? She keeps you posted about your father? You know, you could talk to him _yourself_."

"I do. Sometimes. Twice a week. On the phone."

"For six to eight minutes, like clockwork," Grandpa said. He licked an envelope. "Well, I'm sure your anxious to read your letter.

Eric took this as permission to disappear, which he did, out to the back porch this time. The sun was setting. The rest of the boys were hanging out in the living room playing cards, chess, or checkers, or taking showers and getting ready for bed.

He tore open the letter.

 _March 4, 1983_

 _Dear Eric,_

 _The musical went well. We got a standing ovation, but I think that's just something parents do._

 _Okay, I get your point. Mo took me to the romantic comedy to score points. But it worked. At least he makes an effort. It doesn't sound like YOU make much of an effort with the girls you date. Except maybe for that one serious girlfriend. So...who was she? What happened there? Why did you break up?_

 _Back at my old school, I did something I regretted. And people talked about it all over school. But that's not what I got sent to live with my aunt. That was the grades and the drinking. My mom never knew about the embarrassing thing I did. And that's personal and I'm certainly not telling you in a letter._

 _I really don't think you should assume that just because a girl's not a virgin she wants to have sex with every guy she dates. She could just be dating a guy because she likes him, or she has fun with him, or she wants to get to know him better, or she wants a boyfriend to go places with, or whatever. She might have decided that even though she's not a virgin anymore, she doesn't ever want to have sex again unless it's in a very serious relationship and she loves the guy. You don't know what she's thinking, so don't assume. And yeah, you do sound a little bit like an ass, but at least you realize it. I think some guys never do._

 _I didn't say there was anything WRONG with being a stay-at-home mom. It's just not something I'm ever going to do. I don't think it's smart to rely on a man like that. You just never know._

 _I've started studying for the S.A.T and I did okay on my first practice test. I guess you're right. If I really study hard I could go somewhere better than UNT. Not an ivy, but maybe UT Austin or A &M._

 _Your friend Billy sounds like an interesting character. I wish I could meet him someday. Are you making friends with people there you never would have back home?_

 _You were conniving with the spin the bottle thing. So you CAN put effort into getting a girl when you have to! Sounds like it might be a little too easy for you. I guess because you're so good-looking and you're good at football? I mean, because we've established you can't sing or endure romantic comedies._

Tami thought he was good-looking? He wasn't entirely surprised. She'd sought out his picture in the trophy case, and most girls seemed to think he was good-looking. But Tami hadn't actually _said_ she thought so. And she'd seemed pretty indifferent to him, as far as that sort of thing went. There'd been nothing flirtatious in any of her letters. Most girls would have flirted with him by now, after seeing his photo. It was flattering that they did but he also sometimes wondered if they would like him if they knew him. The _real_ him. The him who was writing these letters, in pooint of fact. The him who was more than a good-looking football player to show off at dances and parties.

 _I'm with you on Silvester getting Tweetie Bird. I want to see coyote get roadrunner just once too. Not eat him, but get him and then maybe have a change of heart, like the Grinch Who Stole Christmas, and then let him go._

 _FOUR kids! That's insane. I suppose you think your wife is going to do all the work? I think I want two. One girl and one boy. If I ever get married. I'm not sure I even want to get married. My mom had a pretty crappy marriage, and my aunt seems to have had a fun and fulfilling life without ever having to get chained to anyone. She's dated a lot of hot guys – I mean, not all at once. I don't want to give you the wrong impression. But, you know, she's in her thirties. Over time, she has._

 _Being the older child's no picnic either. You STILL get blamed for everything. Even when your little sister CLEARLY started it. Because you're OLDER and you should KNOW BETTER. Ugh. And your mom still expects so much of you. Especially when your dad's unreliable and then he's gone. You have to help run the house like an adult almost. That sucks. You think your dad waking you up early to run plays and making you stay up late to study sucks? Try getting up early to mow the lawn and do the laundry, and then staying up late to do the dishes and mop the floor and plan the grocery list for the week, down to the penny, because you're almost out of pennies._

 _Now for your questions. For your information, Mo was NOT, in fact, the first person to ask me out. Some random guy in the hallway did the first day I was here. But I didn't know him at all so I said no thank you._

Why would some random guy in the hallway ask her out? Guys usually only did that to very hot chicks, even when they knew they didn't stand a snowball's chance in hell of being accepted. It was like a peacock displaying its feathers.

 _My first real boyfriend? Well…Mo I guess. And I've dated him for about two months now._

Wait. Wasn't she NOT a virgin? Did that mean she'd lost her virginity to a guy who was NOT her real boyfriend? Was THAT the thing she regretted? That hypothetical girl who might not want to have sex again until it's someone she's in a serious relationship with and she loves? Eric thought maybe that hypothetical girl was _her_.

He wondered how long Mo would keep dating her when he found out she wasn't putting out for just anyone. Mo wasn't exactly a playboy, he didn't have the clout – or, at least, he hadn't when Eric left Euless. But Mo had bragged in the locker room about his Grapevine girl and how hot and heavy they were. Maybe he wouldn't care if Tami put out as long as that thing with the other girl was still going on and he got to see her whenever he was staying with his dad. Maybe Tami was his Euless girl – someone to take to parties and dances.

Eric felt bad for Tami if that was the case. Especially if Mo was her first real boyfriend. She was going to get her heart broken something awful. On the other hand, she hadn't answered his question about _why_ she was dating him. How much did she really like him?

Eric continued reading:

 _My favorite holiday is Thanksgiving because it isn't about getting anything (like Christmas presents or Halloween candy, or Valentine's day cards). It's the only holiday that's not totally commercialized. And I love, love, love mashed potatoes. And you always get them on Thanksgiving._

 _The worst book I was ever forced to read was Oliver Twist. Ninth grade English. Oh God Dickens is so incredibly BORING. You know he got paid by the word? It shows._

 _Question time for you:_

 _1._ _What's your favorite animal? (Lame, I know, but I'm running out of questions.)_

 _2._ _Would you rather date an ugly girl you respected or a pretty girl who annoyed you?_

 _3._ _Do you have someone in mind to take to Homecoming in September?_

 _4._ _Do you have any hobbies besides football?_

 _Your Pal,_

 _Tami_


	23. Chapter 23

Tami was sitting with her legs curled up on the couch and was about ready to read Eric's letter when her aunt told her they were going to Coach Taylor's house for dinner and she should be ready in fifteen minutes. "Why am _I_ going?" she asked. "Don't you want to be alone with him?"

"Because it's dinner time, and it was a last-minute invite, and he knows you're home and that feeding you is ultimately my responsibility." Aunt Bonnie sat down in the armchair, took off one of her flats, and massaged her foot. She'd just gotten home from work.

"Well, I can just eat leftovers here." Tami wasn't thrilled about the possibility of having to share an entire meal with a coach she saw in the halls of the school at some point every day. It was weird enough having to nod to him and smile, all the while knowing he was her aunt's _boyfriend_ , if that's what you called a forty-something man who was dating a thirty-something woman. "You go. I'll be fine here by myself. It's not like I've never spent an evening by myself before."

"You're going. He sees you as part of the package deal and wants to have you over once for dinner. Besides, he has too much brisket."

"Then bring home the leftovers when you're done."

"Be ready in fifteen minutes," said Aunt Bonnie, slipping off her other shoe.

"Why are you taking off your shoes if we're leaving in fifteen minutes?"

Aunt Bonnie stood and picked up her flats. "Because I need to put on my sexy cowgirl boots."

"Oh my God," Tami moaned. "This is going to be so awkward."

"Suck it up, buttercup," her aunt said as she began to walk down the hallway toward her bedroom.

Tami sighed. She didn't need to _get ready_ to be a third wheel. Jeans and long-sleeve t-shirt, which she already had on, seemed a sufficient outfit for that purpose. She could slip into her tennis shoes by the front door when they headed out. So instead of "getting ready," she opened Eric's letter.

 _March 8, 1983_

 _Dear Tami,_

 _If you must know – and apparently you must, because you're kind of nosy - my girlfriend broke up with me about three months after my mom died because I wasn't any fun anymore. There you have it. I'm Mr. No Fun. So after she dumped me, I had a LOT of fun. Tons of fun. With lots of other girls. It didn't seem to bother her, though. Probably because she started dating the captain of the baseball team, who was loads of fun, I guess. But I'm over it now. That was eleven months ago anyway. And we only dated for - I don't know - about half of my high school dating life so far._

"What a mean bitch!" Tami exclaimed.

" _What_ did you say?" called Aunt Bonnie from her bedroom.

"I said, what a cheap stitch! There's a tear in my shirt! Don't worry. I'll throw on a sweatshirt before we go."

There was no response from her aunt, who seemed to accept the explanation, so Tami kept reading:

 _Billy's something else for sure. So's Dante. I had all these stereotypes of all the guys here, and I was so wrong. Well, not about ALL of them. But definitely about Billy and Dante. Yeah, I'd never be friends with either of them back home, but…I don't know. We get a long pretty cool here._

 _Getting girls isn't as easy for me as you think. I'm actually kind of shy. I crushed on Mary Ellen – that was my steady girlfriend – for half of ninth grade before I got the courage to ask her out. And I was bold with all those other girls after she dumped me mostly because I drank and got myself buzzed enough to get over my shyness. I don't know why I'm this way. My mom sure wasn't. She could talk to anyone anytime and did. She was so outgoing. My dad's reserved, but I wouldn't say he's shy like me. He can talk to strangers just fine without feeling weird about it, I think. He can adjust to most social situations and know what the right thing to say is. So I don't know where I get that shyness from. You probably don't believe me, because I haven't been at all shy in these letters, but writing to someone is a completely different thing than talking to someone face to face. Plus, I kind of forgot I might actually meet you one day._

One day soon, as a matter of fact, Tami thought. She'd be back from visiting Mom and Shelley on April 4, and when school started again on April 5, Eric would be there for spring training. She made a note to herself to try not to make him feel awkward. She'd have to do most of the talking when they met. Of course, now _she_ was starting to feel a little nervous about meeting him herself. Writing _was_ completely different than talking face to face. She'd written a lot of things to him that she wouldn't normally have said to a guy she hadn't known very long. She was outgoing, but she wasn't bare-your-soul-to-strangers outgoing. And yet…she kind of _had_ bared her soul to Eric in her letters. Just a little bit of it, anyway.

Tami sighed, feeling that nervous knot in her stomach at the thought of meeting him, and read on:

 _I like mashed potatoes, too, but I like sweet potatoes even better, especially when my mom put those littler marshmallows on top and all the brown sugar._

Here he drew a picture of a mouth drooling, which made Tami laugh.

 _Onto your questions:_

 _1\. My favorite animal is a dog. Because it's loyal. I'm big on loyalty. I hate it when people tell me one thing and then do another behind my back. Some guys are like that. Even some guys on the team. Like some of them two-time their girlfriends – I don't mean date around, which I admit I've done, but I mean make BOTH their girlfriends think she's the ONLY ONE. So I don't know if I can fully trust them to be straight with me. Now, some guys will be straight with other guys even if they aren't honest with their girls, but I just find it easier to trust a guy who's straight with everyone._

Tami read that answer again. It seemed like he'd kind of gotten onto a non-dog-related tangent there, and it made her a little uneasy.

 _2\. Ugly girl I respect or pretty girl who annoys me? Hmmm….Well, I got together with a totally hot girl a couple times who turned out to be so mean and shallow that I started to notice she had kind of a big nose and that one of her eyes was a little droopy and she really wasn't even that pretty after all. So I guess if we're talking one or two dates, some making out, I'll take the pretty annoying girl, but if we're talking someone I have to KEEP dating? Like, someone I have to deal with and be around and spend tons of time with? I'd rather have the ugly girl I respect. Besides, if I respect her, she'll probably start looking less ugly over time anyway, the same way a pretty girl starts looking less pretty when she's annoying._

 _3\. Homecoming? God, no, I haven't thought that far ahead. I won't be back for good until August, so I'll only have a few weeks to find someone to take to the dance. I HAVE to go, though. You can't not go to the Homecoming dance when you're on the football team. But that's a big deal, because the girl you invite to that starts thinking maybe you want to be her boyfriend. So thanks for stressing me out about that._

 _4\. I don't really have time for hobbies besides football. But – don't laugh – I like to dance. My mom made me take a stupid ballroom dance class when I was 13 because she said it would make me less shy and I needed to know how to dance properly and I'd thank her when I impressed the girls. I tried to explain to her that NO ONE ballroom dances anymore, that we just kind of shuffle our feet around at slow dances and jump up and down at fast dances, but she was like, "Yeah, I know, that's the problem!" And she made me take it. And I HATED it the first two weeks. And then it was kind of fun, even though I was paired with like a forty-year-old woman. So it's not really a hobby, but, I like it._

 _Your turn –_

 _1\. So what EXACTLY do you like about Mo, besides that he can sing and kind of play football? You never did tell me._

 _2\. Would you rather date a guy who was kind of boring but you could trust, or a guy who was tons of fun but you always kind of had a vague sense he might be lying to you?_

 _3\. You think you'll go with Mo to Homecoming next year? Think you'll still be together then? Think you'll still be living with your aunt?_

 _4\. The guy you regret losing your virginity to – how big an asshole was he?_

Tami gasped. How had he _known_? She hadn't _said_ that!

"What's wrong?" Aunt Bonnie asked anxiously. She was just emerging from the hallway.

"Nothing." Tami hastily folded the letter and shoved it in her jean pocket.

"Did Eric write something that upset you?"

"No," Tami lied. "Let's go." She stood up and walked quickly past her aunt toward her shoes. "I'm famished."


	24. Chapter 24

When they walked into Coach Taylor's kitchen, his eyes went straight to Aunt Bonnie's cowgirl boots and then up her long legs. Then he quickly looked away. It was subtle, but not so subtle Tami didn't notice it. She supposed her aunt knew what she was doing when it came to footwear.

The evening just got more awkward from there. Coach Taylor made corny jokes that Tami's aunt seemed to find strangely funny, even though they weren't funny at all. He claimed his homemade barbecue sauce was the "best in North Texas," and Aunt Bonnie told him it was "at least the fourth best" she'd ever tasted. Then he challenged her to furnish the three superior sauces for his inspection.

"I can't let you taste them all," Aunt Bonnie said. "My granddaddy and my daddy are both dead, so they aren't making barbecue anymore. But I'll have you over to my house sometime and let you taste mine."

"I would _love_ to taste yours."

Tami sawed into the baked potato on her plate and hoped against hope that wasn't some kind of _double entendre_. (That was one of her vocabulary words in English this week.)

Eric's father tried several times to include Tami in the conversation, asking about what she was going to do with her time now that the musical was over, when she thought she'd return to her mother's house in Houston, where she wanted to go to college, and if she was looking forward to playing volleyball next fall. She responded, but in a cursory manner. Her mind was elsewhere. She couldn't stop thinking about the fact that Eric had figured out she'd humiliated herself by throwing her virginity away on an asshole. And then, to make matters worse, Coach Taylor said, "How is my son? I think you may actually have more communication with him than I do."

"Eric's fine," Tami said. She pushed back her chair. "I'm sorry, but my stomach feels a little sick. I think I'm going to go home and lie down." She stood up. "Thank you for the dinner, Coach Taylor. Don't hurry back, Aunt Bonnie." She rushed from the house.

[*]

"I hope it wasn't my cooking," Coach Taylor said, looking through the kitchen window at the retreating girl. He didn't interact with Tami much, but she generally seemed respectful and cheerful to him. She'd been acting a bit rudely and indifferently tonight. Teenagers with attitudes always irritated him, but what bothered him tonight was that he had wanted to make a good impression on Bonnie's niece in order to show Bonnie that he was serious about his involvement with her. Yet it seemed everything he had said tonight either annoyed or upset the girl, and he couldn't keep a conversation going with her.

"It wasn't. She got a letter from Eric today, and I think something in it upset her."

Deacon jerked his head back from the window and stared at her. "What? What did he say?"

"Well, I don't know. I don't actually read her private correspondence. I only _joke_ about reading it."

"If that son of mine said anything inappropriate, I swear to God, I will drive down to that ranch – "

"- Deacon, relax."

He picked up his knife and cut into his brisket.

"Whatever it is, these kids need to work it out themselves," Bonnie assured him. "And I think they will. Because I think this correspondence has been good for both of them. Tami's been opening up to me bit by bit, and you said Eric's attitude has been improving. I don't think that's just owing to your father-in-law's influence or mine. I think they're becoming friends and helping each other through some things. And I think they could both use a good friend."

"Hmmmm. Interesting. A few weeks ago you were worried he was trying to get in her pants."

"Well, he probably is," Bonnie said. "He's _male_. But that doesn't mean he doesn't respect her."

"That doesn't sound very respectful."

"Well, _you're_ trying to get in my pants, aren't you?" Bonnie asked. "And you respect me."

"I am _not_ trying to get _in_ your pants!" Deacon insisted.

"No? If I suggested going to your bedroom right now, you'd turn me down?"

Deacon rested his fork and knife on his plate. "Of course not! But that phrase – trying to get in your pants. I don't like it. It isn't an accurate descriptor of what I'm _trying_ – and quite clearly _failing_ – to do."

Bonnie chuckled and took a sip of the glass of red wine he had poured her. "You might be closer to succeeding than you think."

Deacon grinned and leaned forward over the table. "Really?"

"Really." Bonnie took another small sip. "Not tonight, mind you." His smile faded. "But every day you get a little closer to that end zone."

[*]

"And then we did a fake," Eric said excitedly. "He thought I handed off. Totally believed it. He was running after that guy –"

"- I'm glad you're enjoying this ranch league you organized, son," Eric's father interrupted him. Eric was a little frustrated that he wasn't listening to the details. "That shows some real organizational initiative on your part." Well, at least he got some praise out of the man. "I want to talk to you about something else though."

Eric leaned against the kitchen wall, next to the phone, and reached over to toy with the handle of the old-fashioned manual coffee bean grinder on Grandpa's hutch. It was never good when either an adult or a girl wanted to "talk to you about something."

"Tami was over here for dinner the other night, three days or so ago, and she seemed a bit upset. Bonnie said she'd recently gotten a letter from you. Did you write something that might upset her?"

"What? No! What would I have said?"

"I don't know. You tell me."

Eric spun the handle of the grinder in a rough circle. "We just…write about our future plans. Ask each other stupid questions about school and hobbies and books and TV and stuff. That's _all._ "

"So nothing really personal then?"

Eric was silent.

"You haven't said anything suggestive – "

"- No! Jesus, Dad, she's my pen pal. Because you _made_ me be her pen pal! So _you_ could be suggestive with her _aunt_."

"That is _not_ why I asked you to write her. And please don't use the Lord's name in vain."

"Dad, did you even go to church last Sunday?"

There was silence on the other end of the line.

"Or the week before? Without Mom around to make you, do you even go?"

More silence.

"I didn't think so." Eric wrapped the cord of the phone around his finger and realized that he wasn't really mad at his father. He was mad at himself. He wished he could take back that question about Tami's virginity. He shouldn't have let her know that he'd figured it out. The idea of Tami being upset bothered him a lot more deeply than he could have imagined it would.

"Maybe it was something else that upset her," his father said in a tone of forced calm, "and she just happened to be reading your letter about that time."

"Probably," Eric said.

"Okay then." His father sounded like he didn't believe Eric one wit but that he had decided to drop the subject anyway. "So tell me a bit more about your last game. Is Billy still your best linebacker?"

"Billy's quarterback on the other team. So we did this fake, right? And then…"

[*]

Eric saw the last envelope handed out and looked away from Grandpa Maddox's sympathetic eyes when there was nothing for him.

He thundered out the kitchen door and began walking. He didn't suppose he'd be reading a letter from Tami during his siesta today either. Might as well get some fresh air instead. He breathed in deeply. The stench of manure made him cough.

Usually it took six or seven days between the time he put that little red flag up on the mailbox and the time he heard back.

But it had been eleven days since he'd mailed his letter to her.

Eleven days.

[*]

 _March 19, 1983_

 _Dear Tami,_

 _Sorry if question number 4 upset you. You don't have to answer it. Just ignore it. Pretend I never asked it._

 _Please write back._

 _I like reading your letters. You're funny and interesting and it gets boring on this ranch sometimes._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Eric_


	25. Chapter 25

Tami read the letter from Eric again, the shortest he'd ever written. She read the line, "I like reading your letters" four times and the line "You're funny and interesting" six times, and the last of the anger she'd felt at him calling her out on her regret finally dissipated. The embarrassment lingered.

A beloved, late uncle had once told her, "When you've embarrassed yourself in front of someone, you've got nothing left to lose. At that point, you might as well just go all out and be yourself." She hadn't followed that advice in Houston, but maybe she would now.

Tami pulled out a sheet of paper from her three-ring binder for English and began to write.

 _March 23, 1983_

 _Dear Eric,_

 _Fine. I'll answer number 4._

 _He was a pretty big asshole, but I was an even BIGGER idiot. I was 15. He was 17. I was pissed off at my dad for leaving, and I just wanted to believe some guy LIKED me. So even though I barely knew him, I got buzzed and let him have sex with me in the upstairs bedroom at some loud party. The sheets smelled like old lady powder and it didn't feel very good but I pretended it did._

 _He left and went back to the party after. So I went to the bathroom and straightened myself up, tried to convince myself it had been fun, and went down to find him. He wasn't there anymore. Even so, I told myself I'd see him in school on Monday and he'd be my boyfriend. But on Monday he acted like he didn't even KNOW me. Somehow though it seemed like everyone knew we'd had sex, and suddenly I was a slut. HE wasn't a slut of course. But I was._

 _After that I was miserable, and my grades went into the toilet. I started upsetting my mom in more ways than I count. So she finally sent me to live with my Aunt Bonnie._ _I don't think she really hoped Aunt Bonnie would "straighten me out." She thinks Aunt Bonnie is too soft and that she'd make a horrible mother. I think my mom just couldn't handle me anymore._ _I don't really want to see her Easter weekend. I don't want to have to pretend we're some happy family. I want to see my little sister, but I don't really want to see my mom._

 _And I don't want to move back home for my senior year either. My mom just got offered a job that would start this summer. It's 12-hour shifts, four days a week in a town with a crap high school, even worse than my old high school. So Mom doesn't want to take the job, even though it's probably good for her. This weekend, Aunt Bonnie's going to tell her that she should. She's going to offer to let me and Shelley both live with her during the school year next year, and then we can live with my mom during the summer and school breaks. That way we'll both get to go to good schools and my mom won't be so stressed out._

 _I HOPE she says yes. I PRAY she says yes._

 _I'm trusting you never to tell anyone any of this. I guess after all this time I just had to get it out. You better not judge me, because I bet you've probably had plenty of one night stands yourself._

\- _Tami_

[*]

 _March 25, 1983_

 _Dear Tami,_

 _I hope you don't think I'm like that guy who took your virginity. I haven't exactly been the perfect gentleman with girls this past year, but I would never pretend I didn't know someone the next day. I'd certainly never just leave her all alone at a party like that and take off._ _I haven't had as much sex as you seem to think. I've fooled around in different ways with a bunch of girls, but, honestly? I've only had s-e-x sex with two, and one was my steady girl. They all seemed to like whatever we did together and they all wanted to do it and I didn't make them think I wanted to be their boyfriend, at least that's what I thought anyway. But maybe some of them were like you. Maybe they were just convincing themselves they wanted to do it. Maybe I should have tried harder to find out if they REALLY wanted to first, but I didn't._

 _I hope I didn't hurt anyone too bad. But if you girls don't really want to do something, you should just NOT do it._ _Eh. Look who's talking. I didn't want to go to half those parties and I still did. I'm not really a party guy. I'm not saying I didn't like the fooling around part. I'm not gonna lie. It felt good, but I'd rather do all that someplace quiet with a girl I like a whole lot._ _But sometimes you do things to fit in, to feel wanted and liked when the people who are supposed to love you aren't around to love you anymore – like my girlfriend wasn't and my mom wasn't. Like your dad wasn't._ _Isn't it weird that that's maybe when you feel the most alone? When you're trying your hardest to feel like you belong?_

 _Write back. Answer the other letter. Let's have fun letters again. This shit is too heavy._

 _\- Eric_

[*]

 _March 28,_

 _Dear Eric,_

 _You're right. We both got pretty dark for a while there. But I'm glad you wrote what you did, because I can relate and it makes me feel a whole lot less embarrassed about all the stuff I shared with you. I think we're both kind of sworn to secrecy now because we both have so much dirt on each other. That feels safer somehow._

 _Now for the letter I never answered:_

 _First off, your ex-steady-girlfriend is a total bitch and she didn't deserve you. My God! Your mom died! She should have been there for you and not have expected you to be a barrel of fun._

 _No, you certainly do not seem at all shy to me in these letters. If you really are, this could be interesting when we meet. Promise you'll try to make eye contact and you won't have to get buzzed just to talk to me about the weather._

 _What was all that stuff about the dog and loyalty and that question about dating someone when you have a vague sense they're lying to you? Are you trying to tell me something? I'm starting to feel like you are. Does it have to do with Mo? Because something weird happened with him._

 _He went to be with his dad in Grapevine this weekend, like he usually does. Thursday I asked if maybe I could go with him. I met his mom already, and I'd kind of like to meet his dad. I thought it would be fun for us to take that old train from Grapevine to Fort Worth and see the long-horn cattle herded through the street and all that. I've never done it. But he was totally weird about it – had six excuses why I couldn't go and half of them didn't make sense. So I feel like he's hiding something._

 _Does he have another girl in Grapevine? Is that what you've been trying to say? You probably won't_ _answer that, because he's your brother in arms or some such nonsense. So I'll just find out myself._ _If he DOES, I will dump his ass._

 _By the time you get this, you'll be leaving the ranch for Spring Break, and we'll soon be seeing each other in person, so I guess I can save my four questions for when we meet and ask them in person._ _Want to bet your father's going to cook brisket on Tuesday and make his "best BBQ sauce in North Texas" and make us all four eat together? When he does, count how many times he looks at my aunt's cowgirl boots. I'll bet you $5 it's at least seven._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Tami_


	26. Chapter 26

Coach Taylor picked Eric up at Second Chances Ranch at noon on Good Friday, a day after he'd read Tami's most recent letter. Eric had been nervous about the long drive, certain his father would find fault with him about something, but it had turned out to be uneventful. His father seemed more relaxed than he had most of this past year, and although the conversation was minimal, the silences were not unpleasant. They listened to a lot of sports radio, an hour of classical music Coach Taylor forced upon his son, and an hour of 80s rock and roll Eric forced upon him.

"I guarantee you no one will be listening to this crap in two hundred years," his father told him.

They pulled into the carport of the Taylor house at 11 PM that night, after wrestling with some unexpected weekend traffic, and Eric went straight to bed. He was tired, but it felt strange not having a roommate. He'd adjusted to the sound of Billy and Dante's banter, which had so often lulled him to sleep.

Accustomed to waking with the rooster, Eric rolled out of bed early on Saturday morning, even though his father was actually sleeping rather than knocking on his door. to urge him to run plays. When had his father started sleeping-in?

Eric went for a jog as the sun was rising and ran past the small house next door, where he knew Tami lived. They'd left one kitchen light on, and a radio turned up loud, as though that might fool a robber while they were gone for Easter, even though there was no car in the carport. He hoped her weekend with her mother was going well, and that her aunt had talked Tami's mom into letting Tami stay at Bowie High. He also hoped she'd found her answer to her question about Mo on her own, because he thought she deserved better. Eric _wanted_ better for her, anyway. She'd been through a lot this past year. Tami could use a little happiness in her life, and a guy who really respected her.

In the late afternoon, his father took him to the Bowie Boar's stadium to run plays. Five other players happened to show up, planning to mess around on the field and maybe throw some beer cans at the scoreboard, but when they saw Coach Taylor, they hid their six pack under the bleachers and waved innocently. Eric was sure his father must have seen, but he pretended not to. Instead he shouted, "Impromptu practice!"

"Awww!" Mo McArnold called back. "Spring training doesn't start until Monday! Is that even legal?"

"We're gonna have us a good time today!" Coach Taylor yelled. And then he ran them especially hard.

The sun had risen high in the sky and beat down with 88 degrees of heat. Exhausted and sweating, they all sat down on a rare, shady spot on the bleachers and guzzled water while Eric's father went into his office for some folders. Eric tried to remember the name of the guy sitting to his left, who had joined the team after he went away to the ranch. Mo McArnold he knew, of course. Next to Mo was a linebacker named Jimmy, the center, Mike, and a tight end named Sanchez. (Well, that was his last name. Eric had never actually learned his first name).

"So you're convalescing to join us for spring training are you?" Jimmy asked. Jimmy liked to work big words into every conversation to prove he wasn't a dumb jock. The problem was that he didn't know what those words meant, and he often used them incorrectly.

"I think you mean condescending," Mike said. "And we ought to be glad Eric's coming back."

"Hey, what am I?" Mo asked. "Chopped liver?"

"You've done better than I expected," Mike admitted.

"But we need Eric if we're going to make it to state next year," Sanchez said. "When Coach pulled him off the team last season…" He whistled and pointed straight down.

"How do you know Coach isn't going to keep _me_ at first string?" Mo asked.

Sanchez, Jimmy, and Mike laughed. Eric repressed his instinct to do so.

"Well I guess for your sake he ought to make you first string," Mo said. "You're not going to have anything better to do. Because your social life…" He made a poof sound and mimicked an explosion by opening and closing his hand. "You're going to be out of the loop after an entire semester away. Half the girls you dated last year have steady guys now. The rest don't want another ride on the Eric Express. Me, on the other hand, I'm dating the hottest girl in the whole damn school."

"Tami?" Eric asked.

"Damn right, Tami."

So she hadn't broken up with him _yet_ , anyway. He didn't think anything of Mo's claim that she was the hottest girl in the school. _Every guy_ claimed his girlfriend was the hottest. You had to.

Mo leaned forward on the bench and peered at Eric. "Hear you two have been writing each other for her English assignment. You better not be putting the moves on her, Taylor. Better not be quoting any Shakespeare."

Eric didn't rise to the bait. "We hardly say anything to each other," he lied. "She just has to show the teacher the cancelled envelopes with the address to prove she's doing it. We write each other like three lines every time."

"Eric is not a gargantuous guy," Jimmy said.

"I think you mean gregarious," Mike told him.

"Mo, man, have you even managed to get a first down with Tami yet?" Sanchez asked.

"The Mo Machine has entered the end zone many a time, Mikey. And she was cheering like it was the Superbowl."

Mike sputtered out his water. "That's not what Kimberley said she said."

"Why would you know what Kimberley said she said?" Mo asked.

"Because Kimberly and I _have_ actually entered the end zone. Well…almost. Soon. Maybe during summer break."

Mo laughed. "You crack me up, Mikey." He looked at Eric. "I'll I'm saying is, you may be the star of this team next season, but you're looking at the King of the Homecoming court right here." He pointed to himself. "And Tami's gonna be the Queen."

"The King and Queen don't have to be dating, you know," Mike said. "And last year they elected that guy with the cleft lip."

"They never do a charity vote two years in a row," Mo insisted.

"Oh shit," Sanchez muttered. "Coach Drill Sargent is back on the field."

Looking at a three-ring-binder of some kind, Coach Taylor strolled toward the bleachers.

"Let's wait until he actually calls us out there," Mike said.

"Did you know your dad is dating my girlfriend's aunt?" Mo asked Eric.

"Yeah, I know," Eric said, wishing Mo would shut up about Tami.

"She is h-o-t HOT!" Mo exclaimed.

"So you've mentioned," Eric said.

"I meant the aunt. Tami's hot, of course, but so's her aunt."

"Eww," Eric said. "She's thrity-six or something, man."

"It doesn't matter what age you are. You can still have, you know…" Mo cupped his hands in front his chest to indicate a pair of sizable breasts. "Bet your dad's enjoying those."

"Jesus, man," Eric muttered. "Shut up."

"I wonder if your old man's made into the end zone."

"I said shut up!" Eric yelled.

Coach Taylor looked up from his binder and lowered his coach's cap slightly to block the sun. "You ladies done with your afternoon tea?" He shouted. "Then get the hell back on the field!"

[*]

It was weird sitting through Easter Sunday service without his mother by his side to poke him in the shoulder when he was too slow to stand or kneel. They hadn't gone last year. Eric wasn't sure why, but he thought it was probably that his father couldn't tolerate all the exaggerated sympathy he would have had to face, with the loss of his wife still fresh. Now that more than a year had past, however, the church ladies mentioned Ivy Taylor not at all, which was even worse, in a way.

After the service, Coach Taylor and Eric sat on the low brick wall just outside the church, eating angel cake, drinking coffee, and watching the kids practically tackle each other in their mad hunt for Easter eggs. Little old church ladies swooped down upon them like locusts, asking Coach Taylor if he'd enjoyed the service, if he was ready for spring training, if he was going on any vacations this summer and asking Eric where he'd been, when he was coming back, and if he'd be leading the Bowie Boars to the State Championship his senior year.

"I'm actually repeating my junior year next year," Eric said, again and again, to everyone who asked that. Every time those words were greeted with a look of surprise, curiosity, and the faintest glint of condemnation. He felt like a complete failure by the time the last lady was gone.

After the old ladies stopped by, the middle-aged ones did, all to flirt with his father and ask if he was planning to start coming to church more regularly now. Most were subtle, but one hinted obviously enough about the possibility of a date that Eric's father had to hint just as obviously that he was already seeing someone.

Eric and his father had Easter brunch together at a semi-fancy restaurant where for some bizarre reason his father ordered two mimosas. He'd never seen his father drink anything but wine or beer. He wondered if he drank mimosas with Tami's aunt. The food was good, but Eric wasn't very hungry. It all felt so weird, even worse than that first Easter had, when neighbors kept dropping by with desserts, to see how they were "managing the holiday without the Mrs." and to remind them that "the dead shall arise." Easter shouldn't involve just two people, poking around on fancy plates and trying to make casual conversation with each other.

It was better once they were home. They turned on a baseball game in the living room. Dad popped the cap off a beer, Eric opened a Coke, and they talked about all the things that made football a much better sport.

During one of the long commercials, Eric said, "Dad, maybe I shouldn't repeat my junior year. Maybe….maybe I finish out my sentence at the ranch." A program of some kind – and Grandpa's qualified – had been mandated by the judge to avoid prison time for the DUI. "And then I go to summer school to catch up. I start my senior year in the fall. I just take the hit from the bad grades I got the last two semesters. My GPA isn't _terrible_ , when you average it all out, and if I do well my senior year…it'll be okay. I'm going to get into college on football anyway, not academics. And I'll do okay on my S.A.T's. You won't hear my name called for Honor Society at graduation, but is that so bad?"

"You can't make up all your junior year requirements in summer school."

"No, but I can make up two. And then my senior year, I just don't take any fun electives. I take my academic requirements instead."

"That's going to be a heavy course load. And you have to at least take Athletics if you're going to be in football."

"Yeah, I will. But I don't have to take Public Speaking or Journalism. I can do it. I really can."

Eric's father leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "Wouldn't mind having you on my team for two more years."

"Ah. I see."

"And trying to juggle both summer school and summer training?" His father asked. "A heavy course load and football?"

"So it's about winning."

"It's about you maximizing your potential without overextending yourself."

"I don't want to turn 19 during my senior year, Dad."

"Plenty of boys do."

This is where Eric would usually become sullen and tell his father that he only cared about his own job. But he'd been thinking about a lot of things in the quiet of his grandfather's ranch, and he'd gradually come to realize that his father was just a human being shouldering his own heavy basket of worries. "Think about it. Please. I'd like to graduate on schedule. And I'll buckle down. No parties. Well, except the ones that I kind of _have_ to go to as part of the team. Absolutely no drinking. I won't even date."

His father laughed around the neck of the beer bottle that was in his mouth. He pulled it out with a sloop.

"I _won't_. There's no one I even _want_ to date, anyway."

"Well I'm sure that will change sometime in the next year."

"Please, Dad. Just think about it."

He expected his father to shoot him down immediately again, but instead, he said, "Okay. I'll think about it. Convince me you're serious. Do a great job at spring training next week. Do some self-study while you're at your grandfather's ranch – more than he asks you to. And then we'll discuss it again in May."

Eric nodded. "What am I supposed to do while you're at work this week when I'm not at spring training? Do I come home?"

"No. You'll help me in the office. I'll put you to work." He took another swig of his beer. "Oh, and I've invited Bonnie and her niece for dinner on Tuesday. Be on your best behavior. I like this woman."

"Yes, sir."


	27. Chapter 27

There was no school on Easter Monday, but there was spring training. Eric hoped to fall naturally back into the old routine and into the comradery of his team, but he felt like a bit of an outsider. His teammates kept turning to Mo for leadership instead of to him, and Eric didn't run the plays quite as well as he had last season. Despite playing in the ranch league he'd created, he was a bit rusty. He could tell his father was disappointed, though he didn't yell at Eric any more than yelled at anyone else. By the end of the three-hour session, however, things were beginning to fall back into place. Still, Eric's father had not officially stated that Eric was going to be first string next season, and he was making Mo run all the same plays.

After the rest of the players had gone home, Eric stayed to help his dad at the office. His father made him make several phone calls to suppliers to get estimates for equipment for the baseball team. Being an Athletic Director seemed so boring. "I might consider being a high school football coach," he told his dad, "but I will _never_ take a pencil-pushing job like this."

"Coaching alone isn't going to pay the bills, son. You'll either take a pencil-pushing job like this and suck it up like a man, or you'll have to teach full-time. I can't teach because I never got my B.A., so I do this. But hopefully you'll spend a few years in the NFL first, bank half your salary, and then you won't have to worry about how to live on a coach's pay. You can do whatever you like."

"Yeah, hopefully," Eric said. He hated it every time his father mentioned the NFL. He wanted to play professional football, of course, but it was a great weight on his shoulders, that expectation that he _would_. "How come you never made it to the NFL? Or the AFL?"

His father looked up from the file on his desk. "I lost my scholarship. Dropped out of college after my first semester. Went to work on the ranch. You know all that."

"Yeah, guess I did." Eric _did_ know all that, but he'd wanted to remind his father that there were all sorts of reasons he might fail to become a professional football player.

[*]

When they returned home and Eric got out of the truck and began walking around it toward the kitchen door, he spied a beautiful, strawberry blonde at the mailbox on the street. Her legs were long and slender; she had curves in all the right places, and her breasts were pert as they pressed against her tight, burgandy t-shirt. He walked straight into one of the posts of the carport. Groaning, he stumbled back and rubbed his forehead.

His father chuckled. "That was like something straight out of the Three Stooges." He nodded toward the mailbox. "Well, why don't you go introduce yourself to Tami?"

"That's...that's Tami?"

"The girl you've been writing, yes. Introduce yourself, like a good neighbor." His father disappeared through the kitchen door.

Eric swallowed. He wasn't sure he _wanted_ to introduce himself. This girl knew so much about him. _Too much_ about him. What the hell had been thinking, writing all of that personal stuff? And he was still a little jarred by how damn pretty she was.

He was thinking of scurrying inside when she looked up from the mail in her hands, caught sight of him, and shouted, "Are you Eric?"

Eric opened his mouth, but his brain didn't fully connect with it. Finally, he said, "I Eric." The construction didn't sound right to his ears. Something was missing.

" _You Eric_?" she asked, and laughed, and began walking toward him.

Quickly, he combed his hair with his fingers and then looked down to make sure his fly was zipped. When he looked up, she was standing right in front of him. Jesus. She had pretty _eyes_ , too. "Hey," he said. "Tami."

She smiled. "It's nice to finally meet you in person." Her hands were still full of mail, so he wasn't sure if he should try shaking one.

Eric put his hands in his back pockets to avoid the issue altogether. It was a few seconds before he realized he hadn't said anything back. Tami looked down at the pile of mail, as if she was just as nervous as he was. "Yeah," he managed. "You, too. Nice to uh…meet you…in the flesh." He winced. Had that sounded sexually suggestive? In the flesh? It was just an expression, right? In the flesh. It didn't mean anything except "in person." In the flesh. Flesh. She had soft-looking skin. He wondered what it would feel like to touch it. To touch her flesh. In the flesh.

"So…how was the drive up from the ranch?" she asked.

"Okay."

"When did you get in?"

"Friday night."

"Did you have spring training today, or does that start tomorrow?"

"Spring training," he repeated.

"Yeah, did you have it today?"

"Yes. Yes. Today. Spring training."

"God, you _are_ shy," she said. She chuckled. "I really never would have guessed it."

He might be shy, but he wasn't normally this inarticulate. _Speak_ , he willed himself. _Speak. Speak. Speak_. "So, did you dump Mo yet?" Oh. That wasn't what he'd wanted to say.

Tami swallowed and looked off the side of the carport at a nearby oak tree. "Not yet, no," she said. She looked back at him. "I take it you got my last letter before you left?"

"Uh…yeah."

"And?"

"And…what?"

"And," she said, putting all of the mail in one hand and dropping it to her side, "Is my guess right? Does Mo have another girl in Grapevine?"

"I…uh…Mo…the thing is…the guys…I don't…"

"Nevermind. I'm going to break up with him even if he doesn't. The chemistry just isn't there. He's cute. He's fun. But…I don't know. It just isn't there."

"How do you know if it's there?" Eric asked.

"You just know," Tami said.

"Don't tell him I told you – "

"-Don't worry. I know you don't want to turn your team against you. And you _didn't_ tell me. _Anything_."

"You can do better."

"I don't know about that. But my aunt tells me being alone is better than being with someone who's not a good match for you. She should know. She's broken up with at least eight guys in the past ten years."

"Really?" asked Eric, suddenly forgetting his nervousness. "So you think she's going to up and dump my dad, too? Soon?"

"I don't know," Tami said. "She seems to like him so far. Do you _want_ her to dump him?"

"No. Why would I want that?"

"I got the impression you didn't like him dating."

Eric shrugged. "He seems…happier. More relaxed. He's giving me a hell of a lot less grief, that's for sure."

Tami smiled. "Well, I need to be getting back home. I need to unpack from my trip to Houston, and then I'm supposed to go over to my friend Kimberley's house to study for a test. We have a test on Tuesday, right after the break! Unbelievable."

"Mr. Grossman?"

"Yeah."

"He loves to do that," Eric said.

"Well, I guess I'll see you at dinner Tuesday night?"

Eric nodded. As she was walking away, he called after her, "Hey! What did your mom say? About staying with your aunt?"

Tami turned. "She said I could. I'll stay for the rest of the year, go live with my mom for the summer, and then come back next year with Shelley, too. That's my little sister."

"I know." He nodded. "Good. Good. I mean…good for you. That's what you wanted, right?"

She smiled. "Yeah. Yeah, it is." Tami waved to him and then headed back to her house.

Eric turned to go inside, and this time he walked right into the side of the pick-up. He took a step back, eased around it, and went inside. His father was standing at the kitchen counter, across from the window that looked out on the carport. He smirked. "You need some ice for that head?"

Eric rubbed his forehead. "I might."

"I wasn't talking about _that_ one." He jerked open the fridge, pulled out a cold pack he used for sports-related bruises, and tossed it at Eric, who caught it reflexively, despite his shock at his father's quip. " _Cool off,_ son," he said in a tone of voice that was suddenly much less amused. "And be warned - you better _behave_ yourself with that girl. She's my girlfriend's niece." Eric's father grabbed his play book off the counter and vanished through the open doorway of the kitchen.


	28. Chapter 28

"Are you ready yet, Tami?" Aunt Bonnie called through the bathroom door. "We were supposed to be over at Coach Taylor's house five minutes ago!"

Tami wiped off her lipstick for a third time. She didn't know why she was having such a hard time applying her makeup, but every color looked suddenly whorish to her. She wanted something pretty but _subtle_. It wasn't that she was interested in Eric. Not like _that_. They were _friends_. Not even real-life friends. Pen pals. It wasn't like she was trying to make a sexy impression or anything. But, well….he was cute. _Much_ cuter in person than he had been in that team photo in the trophy case, or in the pictures in last year's yearbook. He was downright _adorable_ , really. And his shoulders were so broad. She'd thought that was the shoulder pads in the photos, but – they were just _strong_. His arms were muscular, too, more so than she'd expected. Maybe he'd been lifting a lot of hay bales at that ranch or something.

"Just a minute!" Tami called back. She tried a lighter shade of pink. It was almost unnoticeable. She sighed and left it like that. Tami hoped Eric wasn't as shy at dinner today as he had been when they met. She felt like she'd done most of the talking, and she'd felt a bit awkward herself. Carrying the entire conversation tonight might be a bit much for her nerves.

When Tami stepped out into the hallway, Aunt Bonnie was standing there with her long, wavy red hair let down, a thigh-length white dress cinched around her waist with a thin, black leather belt, and her sexy cowgirl boots on. She looked Tami over. "Isn't that top a little low cut?"

"Isn't your dress a little short?" Tami shot back. " _My_ jean skirt almost reaches my knees. Can you hold your hands straight down at your side and stretch out your middle finger and still not touch any skin?"

"Oh good Lord," Aunt Bonnie said. "Is _that_ what my sister makes you do?"

Tami nodded.

Aunt Bonnie put her hands at her side. "It's plenty long."

"You're curling your middle finger."

Bonnie stretched it out. The fingertip touched skin. "I'm surprise she _lets_ you point your middle finger. Isn't she afraid you're flicking her off?"

Tami snorted. "So can I wear the top?"

"No," her aunt said. " _I'm_ changing." She disappeared into her bedroom.

Tami sighed and went back to her own room to find another top.

[*]

"Offer our guests a drink, Eric," Coach Taylor said deliberately. "I have my hands full." He was stirring the barbecue sauce on the stove. He'd already taken the brisket off the grill, and it now sat steaming on the kitchen counter. Eric's father had a white apron on over his brown slacks and blue, button-down, short sleeve shirt. His hair was neatly combed. He'd clearly made an effort to look good, while Eric appeared to have just thrown on the nearest pair of jeans, a Bowie school t-shirt, and some brown loafers. It made Tami feel silly for taking so long to get dressed.

"Oh…uh…sorry…." Eric jerked open the fridge. "We have water…beer…Coke…"

"What kind of Coke?" Tami asked.

"Uh, Sunkist and Root Beer."

"Anything diet?"

"You don't need to _diet_ , Tami," Aunt Bonnie told her.

"Water," Eric said. "Water's diet."

"We have sweet tea, too" Coach Taylor announced. "Made it myself. In the sun."

"I'll have some of that," Aunt Bonnie said and walked over to where he was turning off the stove. She trailed a hand over his shoulder blades and leaned back against the kitchen sink. Coach Taylor looked down at her cowgirl boots and then quickly dragged his eyes back up to hers.

Tami caught Eric's eyes and smiled. She held up one finger, leaned forward, and whispered. "I say six times."

"Three," Eric whispered back with a smile. "My dad's not an obvious guy." Then he turned back to the fridge and pulled out the jug of sweet tea.

"I'll have some of that, too," Tami said.

"It's not diet. Not even a little bit."

"I know. But it's _sweet tea_."

"Good choice," Eric agreed before setting it on the counter top. The jug had a little handle you could push to dispense the golden-brown liquid. He grabbed a glass off the table and started filling.

"You can just put them on the table," his father told him. "We're ready to eat." Coach Taylor set the sauce and brisket on the table. There was a basket of rolls already on the table and a green salad in a large, wooden serving bowl – iceberg lettuce, of course, tomato, shaved carrots, and croutons. It appeared to have been tossed in Thousand Island dressing. Tami wished Coach Taylor had left it on a side. She'd have to choke that salad down now.

Eric sat down after he put the last glass on the table. Tami waited to see where she was supposed to sit. Coach Taylor pulled out Aunt Bonnie's chair for her. When he did, he glanced down at her boots again.

Tami held up two fingers in Eric's direction, and he looked straight down at his empty plate, stifling a smile.

Coach Taylor also pulled out the chair across from Eric and gestured to it. "Tami?" She sat down and he helped her scoot in before assuming his place at the head of the table.

"Eric, why don't you say grace for us."

"Uh…okay."

Tami could tell he felt on-the-spot.

"The Lord be with you," Eric announced.

There was silence.

"I don't think they do that," Coach Taylor said. "They're Baptists."

"Okay, um….let's just pray then. Dear Lord God, thank you for this food we are about to enjoy. Thank you for the good company. Please bless this food to the nourishment of our bodies. In Jesus's name, amen."

"Amen," said Tami, Aunt Bonnie, and Coach Taylor.

Food was passed. As Aunt Bonnie dug around in her salad for a tomato, she said, "My sister is Baptist, and Tami was raised Baptist, but I'm actually not, Deacon."

"Oh, no? I had thought you said you were."

"No. I'm Unitarian."

Coach Taylor swallowed down his tea abruptly. Tami could see his Adam's apple bob. He set the glass down. " _Unitarian_?"

"Mhmm," Tami's aunt murmured around her bite.

Tami was equally surprised. She assumed her aunt was nominally Baptist but that she just didn't go to church. Aunt Bonnie had never taken Tami to church. She'd gone with Tami and Shelley and their mother to _their_ church on the occasional Christmas or Easter, but that was it.

Coach Taylor blinked. "That new-aged, liberal, vague, semi-church church?"

Eric looked up from his plate, straight across the table, wide eyed, at Tami. Tami smiled nervously and shook her head ever so slightly.

"Unitarianism is not _new age_!" Bonnie insisted. "It has a long and rich history in the United States. John Adams was a Unitarian. Ralph Waldo Emerson. Millard Fillmore."

" _Millard Fillmore_?" Coach Taylor asked.

"He was a president of the United States!" Aunt Bonnie cried across the table. "The twelfth! Or the fourteenth. Maybe he was the eleventh."

"He was the thirteenth," Coach Taylor replied. "I _know_ who he was. I've just never heard anyone refer to him in conversation before as an example of…well... _anything_."

"And what's wrong with being liberal, anyway?" Aunt Bonnie asked, her green eyes flashing.

Eric leaned to the side and coughed into his fist. Tami wondered if he was hiding a laugh or discomfort or a little of both.

"So how's the brisket?" Coach Taylor asked, a little loudly.

"Great," Eric answered quickly.

"Don't try to get out of this with your barbecue sauce," Aunt Bonnie insisted. "It's good, but it's not that good."

Coach Taylor held up a hand. "I apologize. I didn't mean to insult your religion. Or you."

"You don't even go to church half the time yourself," Aunt Bonnie reminded him. "At least I go regularly!"

" _When_?" Tami asked.

"Well, okay….I haven't gone lately. But I used to go to Peaceful Horizons every week until I broke up with my fiancé. But he still goes there, so…" She shrugged. She cut a piece of brisket with her knife and popped it into her mouth.

"Your fiancé?" Tami asked. "Wait. You were _engaged_? When? To Who? To Tom? Your last boyfriend?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you _tell_ me? Or Mom? Or anyone?"

"I was going to, but I had to break it off right after he gave me the ring. He was…well, he cheated on me."

Eric concentrated fiercely on buttering a roll.

"I didn't know that's why you two broke up," Tami said. "I'm so sorry." No wonder her aunt had advised her to drop Mo like a hot potato if she thought he was cheating.

Aunt Bonnie put down her fork and looked across the table at Eric's father. "What other stereotypes do you have of Unitarians?"

"None," Coach Taylor insisted. "None at all. I think Unitarians are good, moral, intelligent people. Fine, upstanding citizens. Why, I hear _Millard Fillmore_ was one!"

Aunt Bonnie snorted and then covered her mouth and nose with her hand. He shoulders rose and fell as she continued to smother her laugh.

Eric, appearing relieved, chuckled too. He looked at Tami and shook his head. Tami smiled back.

The tension dissolved, the four resumed eating.


	29. Chapter 29

Coach Taylor told Eric to start the coffee so that they could "retire to the living room." Tami tried not to laugh at the man's word choice, but it sounded so old fashioned. When they did "retire to the living room," Coach Taylor walking after Aunt Bonnie, his eyes went straight down to her boots and back up again.

"We'll bring out the coffee when it's ready," Tami called after them. Then she turned to Eric, who had just turned on the coffee pot, and held up three fingers. "I'm going to win this bet."

"What's so special about the boots?" Eric asked.

"It's not the boots," Tami said. "It's what the boots call attention to."

Eric looked straight down at her bare legs beneath her skirt, drawing his eyes down to her sandals and then back up. He turned quickly and fiddled with the coffee pot, turning it back off and then on again.

"What did you do that for?" she asked.

"Sorry. You mentioned footwear. So…you know…I…looked."

She smiled. "I meant - why did you turn the pot off and on?"

"Oh. I forgot I'd turned it on," he muttered. "Thought I was turning it on but I was turning it off so I had to turn it on again." He turned around to face her and leaned back against the counter. That was when she noticed that the Bowie High t-shirt he was wearing had a volleyball right over his left pectoral muscle, and under that, the words 1981 State Champions.

"Didn't know you were such a fan of the volleyball team."

"Oh, yeah," he said. "They're great. You're trying out in May, right?"

"Yeah. I'm pretty sure I'll make the team, but I probably won't get much play time. I'm good, but I'm not _good_."

"Well, practice and _get_ good. You can play for the Y this spring. It's recreational, but it'll give you a chance to brush up. Season starts in April. Eight games."

"Thanks. I didn't know about that. I just might."

Eric pulled down four coffee cups.

"None for me, thanks."

"You want hot tea or something?"

"No, I'm good." Mo never thought to ask if she wanted something else if she didn't want the first thing he offered. And that went for making out, too. The more she thought about it, the more like a jerk he seemed. "Do you think I should break up with Mo before or after the junior prom?"

"Definitely before." Eric sounded almost excited when he said that.

"Why definitely?"

"Well, because, I mean….if you're going to anyway, you should just do it. As soon as possible."

"I guess it would give me time to find another date."

"Mhmhm." Eric turned and filled the coffee cups.

"You're going to miss your junior prom," Tami observed. "Or not, I guess, if you're repeating."

Eric left the cups on the counter and faced her again. "Well, I'm trying not to repeat. I'm going to do summer school and take more academic classes my senior year. I mean, if my dad agrees. I have to _prove_ myself to him first."

"And how are you going to do that?"

"God knows," Eric said. "He's hard man to prove yourself to."

"He seems nice to me. When he's not insulting my aunt's choice in churches, of course."

"Well, you got to admit…"

"Admit what?" Tami asked.

"Uh….nothing. Nothing. I admit nothing."

They both snorted, looked shyly to the ground and then looked back up at each other.

"We should probably bring in that coffee before it gets cold," Tami said.

"Yeah." He handed her a cup and then grabbed the other two.

When they settled into the living room, each in an arm chair, Coach Taylor was sitting on the couch next to Tami's aunt, his arm outstretched behind her. Aunt Bonnie crossed her legs at the knee, and Coach Taylor's eyes fell straight to the boots again. Tami looked across the coffee table at Eric and smiled. He looked away.

"Son," Coach Taylor said, "Why are you wearing my shirt?"

Eric flushed. "Uh…I thought it was mine."

"You don't have any _volleyball_ shirts." He turned to Tami's aunt. "I have a T-shirt for every sport at Bowie High. It's one of the perks of being Athletic Director."

"Seems like a sexy job," Aunt Bonnie said. "You get to fill out all those equipment order forms, manage the calendar, stay on top of the regulations, _and_ they give you free t-shirts to boot?"

"I do like to stay _on top_ of things."

Aunt Bonnie chuckled around her coffee cup as she sipped.

Tami winced in Eric's direction. He looked equally uncomfortable with the innuendo. More uncomfortable, actually. "Eric," Tami said, "Your dad said y'all have a badminton set?"

"Yeah, yeah. Let's go play." He shot up from his chair like a rocket.

[*]

Tami spiked the birdie over the net with her racket until it slammed down in the green grass. "Game point!" she cried. "Take that!"

"Badminton isn't exactly my best sport." Eric plucked up the birdie and came over to the deck, where he slumped into a lawn chair by the unlit fire pit. His racket clattered to the ground, but he kept the birdie and turned it round and round in his hand.

Tami sat in the chair next to him. "Well, to be fair, it's more like volleyball than like football."

"Nothing in the world is like football."

"Rugby."

"No. Whole different ball game," he insisted. "Doesn't make any sense at all."

"Canadian football, then," Tami insisted.

"Okay, Canadian football is a little like football. But it's _not_ football."

She laughed. "So what do I get for winning the cowgirl boot bet?"

"You didn't win it!" he insisted, sitting up a little straighter. "He only looked four times, and you said at least six. I said at least three, and four is at least three, but it's not at least six, so I win."

"He's looked three more times since we've been out here," Tami told him.

"You have no proof of that."

"Well, there's still dessert, isn't there?" Tami asked.

"Uh...not unless you brought it. We don't have any in the house."

Tami frowned. "I was looking forward to dessert. I even saved some room for it."

Eric fiddled with the birdie in his hand, running his fingertips over the white, plastic edges. "We could...uh...go grab some ice cream if you want."

"All of us?"

"My dad doesn't like ice cream. He has a milk allergy. But...you know...you and me...we could go. If you want."

Tami stood. "Okay, let's go tell them."

When they walked into the living room, Eric's father and Tami's aunt were lip locked. Coach Taylor had his palm on her knee and a two fingers stretched down inside the leather of her high cowgirl boots. They immediately pulled apart when they sensed Eric and Tami enter. Coach Taylor cleared his throat. "Good game?" he asked.

Eric studied the carpet. "Yeah. Umm...We're running out for ice cream." And then he rounded the corner quickly.

Tami waved slightly at them and then followed him.

When they were on the carport, Eric held out the keys to the pick-up that was parked there and said, "You have to drive. I don't get my license back until June."

"I'll drive," she said, "but you're buying, because I totally won that bet. He had his fingers _down_ those boots."

"Please, please don't talk about it anymore."

Tami laughed and took the keys from the pick-up from him. As Eric slid into the passenger's side, he said, "Try not to crash my father's truck."

"I'm an excellent driver," she insisted, and then she slammed into reverse, swung the pick-up out onto the road fiercely, and gunned it forward. She laughed at his wide-eyed expression before slowing down and driving reasonably.


	30. Chapter 30

_**A/N:** So I just realized I've been completely inconsistent throughout this story about whether Tami is a sophomore or a junior. Oooops! Let's say she's a junior and stick with that from here on out. In my defense, on the show itself, half those kids seemed to be sophomores for two or three years straight.._ _._

 _This is a short update today, but at least it's sooner than it has been. Thank you for all of the reviews! They are much appreciated!_

[*]

"I don't know who that man is who replaced my father while I've been at the ranch," Eric said as they walked through the parking lot to the ice cream shop. He had his hands wedged in the pockets of his jeans.

"What do you mean?"

Eric shrugged. "I was thinking of that _double entendre_."

"Good use of an S.A.T. word."

He chuckled. "I know. I'm trying to use as many in context as I can to learn them."

"That's a good idea. I'm going to try it to. I'm going to make prolific use of the plethora of vocabulary words I've been studying."

Eric smiled as they stepped up the curb onto the sidewalk.

"Your dad wasn't like that with your mom?" Tami asked. "The teasing and the innuendo?"

"I guess he was, now that you mention it." Eric opened the door for her. "I've just never seen him do it with any other woman."

The bells on the door jangled as the door eased shut. Tami was glad that she didn't recognize anyone in the shop. There was a family with two young children, a few middle schoolers out on their own, and an old married couple sitting at the bright orange, circular tables. There was no one in line.

She took her time studying the options and had to tell the college-aged guy behind the counter "Still thinking" twice.

"I'll just get a scoop of chocolate in a cup," Eric said.

"Not a cone?" Tami asked. "What's the point of going for ice cream if you aren't going to get it in a cone?"

"That's just extra calories I don't need."

Tami snorted and looked him up and down. "Like you aren't just going to work it off?"

"Fine," Eric told the server. "I'll get it in a cake cone."

"Cake?" Tami asked. "Not a sugar cone?"

"Geez, what are you? The ice cream police? I like cake cones better."

Tami shook her head. "That's just abnormal."

As the server handed Eric's cone across the counter to him, Tami pointed to the rainbow sherbet. "Can I taste that?"

"Like you've never had rainbow sherbet before?" Eric asked her. "In your almost seventeen years on earth, you've never tasted it?"

"Shut up. I want to remind myself whether I like it or not."

He snickered.

Tami stuck the taste spoon in her mouth and licked the ice cream off slowly. She didn't fail to notice that Eric was watching her lips as she did so, or that he unconsciously licked his own. "Yep," she said. "Still like it. Can I try the butter pecan?"

Eric shook his head and took a bite of his ice cream.

"Don't bite it!" she told him. "Ice cream is for licking."

He deliberately took another bite, a much bigger one this time. He chewed with great exaggeration and two raised eyebrows.

As Tami covered her snort with her hand, the tasting spoon hit the tip of her nose and coated it with a small dot of sherbet. Eric reached out with one thumb and wiped it off. "Watch where you put that thing." He took the tasting spoon from her hand and tossed it in the tiny trash can on top of the counter as the server handed her a tasting spoon heaped with butter pecan.

"Yep," she said when the spoon had slurped out of her mouth. "Still like that one, too. Can I try – "

" _Another_ one?" Eric asked.

"A girl likes to know her options," Tami told him, "before she commits to anything."

"You only get _three_ tastes you know. Then you _have_ to decide."

"Fortunately, you can't really go wrong with ice cream. Unlike with guys." In the end, Tami settled on vanilla.

"Unbelievable," Eric said.

"What can I say? I have simple tastes."

"Yeah, no kidding. You're dating _Mo_."

They settled in at a two-person table at the back of the shop against a windowless wall. Eric had gone to licking the rest of his ice cream very slowly rather than biting it.

"What do you mean by that?" Tami asked. "Mo's not _simple_. He's in choir _and_ on the football team. He's funny. He's high energy. None of that is really _simple_."

"Yeah, guess you're right. _I'm_ simple. I have no real interests other than football. I'm not funny, and, in all honesty, I'd rather stay at home reading a sports biography than try to be high energy at a stupid party."

"You _are_ funny," she said. "In a quiet way."

"Yeah? You think – "

"- What the hell is this, Taylor?"

Tami turned to see Mo standing right beside their little table.


	31. Chapter 31

Standing at the ice cream counter, just beyond Mo, were two other football players that Tami recognized only vaguely. She took in a deep breath, and felt as if she was breathing in the tension in the air.

"Why are you eating ice cream with _my_ girl?" Mo asked.

Eric shot Mo a puzzled, innocent look. "Because she wanted ice cream."

"What are you doing with him, Tami?" Mo asked.

"He's my neighbor."

"You always go out with your neighbors for ice cream?"

"No, I'd be pretty fat if I _always_ did that," Tami said.

Eric snorted and then grew deathly silent.

"You want to step outside with me for a second, Taylor?" Mo asked.

"Come on, Mo, don't do this," Tami said. "This is embarrassing and totally unnecessary."

"I just want to chat with my teammate," Mo assured her.

Eric stood. He tossed his unfinished cake cone in a nearby trashcan and followed Mo. Tami heard the bells jangle on the back door as they went out into the alleyway behind the building. There was no window to look out of to see what was going on.

One of the football players, wearing his thick Bowie High letter jacket despite the warm early spring weather, came to a stop a few feet from her table and dug his spoon into a bowl of ice cream with two scoops, chocolate sauce, and whipped cream. "Hey, Tami. How's it hanging?"

"I'm doing well," she answered, trying to remember the name of this guy. He was a tight end, she thought, but she always confused him with the other blond-haired, blue-eyed guy who was the center.

"Are Eric and Mo duking it out back there?" he asked.

"I don't know what they're doing."

"Well Eric's going to lose that fight," said the other football player as he drew up beside the first one. He licked the lime sherbet that topped his sugar cone. This guy was lean and black, and Tami thought his name might be Terrence, but she wasn't quite sure. "Mo took karate, you know."

"Yeah. For _one_ year, T," the blond answered. So it _was_ Terrence. "In sixth grade. He learned just enough to get his ass kicked."

"I've got a fiver riding on Mo," Terrence said.

"I'll take that bet," the blond said. "Eric's calm out there on the field, but he gets _mean_ when he gets mad."

"But Mo's the one with the reason to get mad." Terrence pointed with his spoon at Tami. "Eric's coming onto his girl."

"Eric was _not_ coming onto me," Tami insisted, "and you know what? Mo doesn't _own_ me either."

Terrence slapped the blond on the shoulder. "Let's go watch. See who wins this bet."

The two players disappeared out the back door. Tami considered following to see what was going on, but she didn't see how her presence was going to calm anything. So she just licked her ice cream cone until the back door opened again.

Mo came in first, alone. "Let's go," he said to Tami. "I'll give you a ride home."

"What? I'm not going with you. I'm finishing my ice cream. And where's Eric?"

"He's talking to the guys." He put a hand on her shoulder. "Come on."

She shrugged it off. "No. I'm staying here until he gets back."

"What are you _doing_ with him?"

"We were having dinner at his father's house. You know, because my aunt is dating Coach Taylor? We came here for desert."

"Yeah, that's what he said. Now I'll bring you back. Let's go."

Tami pushed back her chair and stood up. "Who do you think you are, telling me what to do?"

Mo looked around nervously, but the shop was mostly empty now, and no one seemed to notice them. He held up a hand. "Calm down."

"Calm down? I'm not riled up!"

"Yes, you are, Tami, baby."

She walked past him and tossed her half-finished cone in the trash. Tami whirled on him. "You know what's really ridiculous about this, Mo? You getting all jealous when I haven't even done _anything_ with Eric, but you've got another girlfriend in Grapevine that you see every time you go to visit your dad!"

"Oh, is that what Eric told you? He been calling you behind my back? Writing you lies in his little pen pal letters?"

"Eric didn't tell me anything. Eric didn't _have_ to tell me anything. I have a brain, Mo. Not that you've ever respected that."

"I respect that! Of course I respect that! I _picked_ you, didn't I?"

" _Picked_ me?" Her head shook as she spoke, and her eyes flashed. "Oh, _you_ picked _me_ , did you? Maybe _I_ picked _you_!"

"Whatever. Come on, Tami, calm down. We'll work this out."

"There's nothing to work out, Mo. We're over. I'm breaking up with you."

"For _that_ asshole? You want to know something about Eric? He was drunk half of last year and he got arrested and convicted of a DUI! _That's_ why he's been at that ranch."

"Yeah, I know. And that's why I can't just leave him. Because he lost his license and he can't drive himself home."

Mo, looking surprised that the bomb he'd just dropped had been so quickly defused, stepped back. "Yeah? Do you know he was chasing tail last season like he had to scoop it all up before it went out of fashion?"

"That's a real exaggeration, Mo, but, yes, I know about that, too."

"Then why him over me?"

"I'm not _choosing_ him over you. I'm not _with_ him, Mo! We're friends. We aren't _doing_ anything. I just don't want to be with _you_ anymore!"

"Why the hell not?" he shouted. Now the guy behind the counter and the old couple at the table at the front of the store were both looking at them.

"Because I deserve better, that's why!" She stormed out the back door. The bells jingled fiercely.

Eric was pinned against the brick wall by the two other players. They each had a shoulder against one of his arms, and he was struggling futilely to get loose. They let go when she walked out the door and stepped casually aside, as if they hadn't been holding him at all.

"Hey, Tami," Terrence said. "You like that ice cream?"

"Mo's inside," she told them. "And we've broken up, so you don't have to play henchmen for him on my behalf anymore."

Eric stepped away from the wall and rotated his left shoulder in a forward stretch. He glared at the two players.

"No hard feelings, man," the blond said. "But you know the code."

"I wasn't violating the code. Just eating some damn ice cream."

"Yeah, well, next time, don't eat it with anyone's girlfriend," Terrence told him. " _Capiche_?"

"Understood," Eric replied.

The blond leaned forward confidentially as he passed by Eric and said, "Don't hold it against me if you're team captain next season."

"Won't. I _get_ it."

The blond nodded. The two football players went back inside the ice cream shop.

"They rough you up?" Tami asked.

"No, they didn't rough me up! You think I'd let anyone rough me up?"

"Well, it was three to one for a while there. And Mo's a karate expert, you know." She laughed when he scowled. "Come on," she told him. "Let's get you home."

[*]

As Tami pulled Coach Taylor's pick-up out of the strip mall parking lot and onto the two-lane highway, she said, "That was some real testosterone-driven macho bullshit back there. But you _get it_ , huh?"

"It's not cool to come onto a teammate's girl."

"Well, it's not cool to come onto _anyone's_ girl. But you _weren't_ coming onto me. And did they have to throw you against a wall?" Tami picked up speed.

"I don't hold it against them. I wouldn't like it if my girl was having ice cream alone with some guy."

"Really? You're possessive like that?" Tami was a little disappointed. She was beginning to think pretty highly of Eric.

"Well, think about," he said. "How would you like it if you were steady with some guy, and you walked in an ice cream shop, and you saw him eating ice cream alone with some chick at a two-person table and smiling and laughing with her?"

"I would _at least_ pause to find out the circumstances before I asked her out back to throw her against a wall!"

"That's because you're not a guy," Eric told her.

"I need to find a guy who's sophisticated and not into that childish crap."

"Where are you going to find him? At the opera?"

"I just might!" Tami eased to a stop at the red light. "Maybe I'll start hanging out at the Dallas opera house."

"That's going to be an expensive way to pick up guys. You should probably just lower your expectations."

She laughed.

When they got back to the carport and out of the pick up, they could hear the voices of Coach Taylor and Tami's aunt drifting from the backyard. "Should we join them?" Tami asked.

"We better make _a lot_ of noise when we head that way."

They did. Nothing embarrassing was interrupted. The couple was just sitting in lawn chairs by the fire pit and roasting marshmallows.

Eric pulled up a chair for Tami from the outdoor table and set his next to hers.

"I haven't done this in ages," Tami's aunt said. "I forgot how much fun it was."

Coach Taylor stuck a large marshmallow on a stick, shoved it in the midst of the flame, and let it catch fire. Then he pulled it back out and blew it out to reveal a blackened crisp.

"Men are so impatient," Aunt Bonnie said. "Look how mine's slowly turning a perfect, golden brown because I'm taking the time and effort."

"Well," Coach Taylor replied, "I'm directing all my patience towards other facets of my life right now. I can't wait for a marshmallow, too."

Aunt Bonnie chuckled, plucked her marshmallow from its airy perch above the flames, and slid it off the stick. "It tastes _so_ much better after a slow burn." She popped the marshmallow in her mouth.

Tami looked at Eric. This time, he seemed oblivious of the fact that there might be a double meaning to the conversation. He was busy snapping a stick in two. He handed her half, and she stuck a marshmallow on it.

"Didn't y'all already have ice cream?" Aunt Bonnie asked.

"Yeah, but we didn't finish it," Tami said. "We got interrupted."

"How?" Coach Taylor asked.

Eric shot Tami a warning look. He clearly didn't want his father to know there was trouble between his players, though Coach Taylor would not doubt figure it out when there were tensions at training tomorrow.

"Some kid was running around and bumped into us," Tami lied. "We dropped our cones on the floor before we finished them."

Eric seemed to relax, and then he shoved his marshmallow deep into the flames, where it wooshed and sizzled with fire before he yanked it back out.


	32. Chapter 32

Spring training was divided into a one hour morning session before school and a one hour afternoon session during school. Between the two, Eric helped out his dad in the office, since he wasn't enrolled this semester. But whenever the bell rang for a change in classes, he claimed to have to go to the bathroom, and he disappeared into the hallways. He was hoping to run into Tami, which he finally did, after fourth period. He stumbled on her locker then, which was in the fourth locker bay he had searched.

"Hey!" he said. "I was just running an errand to the main office for my dad. Didn't expect to find you here."

Tami closed her locker and slung her backpack over her shoulder. "He keeping you busy?"

"Always."

"How was training this morning? I hear you and Mo got into it and your dad made you both do tons of up-downs."

"Where'd you hear that?" Eric asked.

"It's all around the school."

He leaned against the locker next to hers. "Well, the rumor is true. But we're cool now."

"Really?" She raised an eyebrow to accentuate her skepticism.

He shrugged. "We're putting aside our differences for the sake of the team."

"Well that's mature of both of you."

"That and my dad said he'll kick both our butts off the team if we ever go at it again."

"He said butts?" Tami asked.

"No, he said asses. But I'm not supposed to swear in front of ladies."

She laughed. "I don't think I qualify as a lady."

"Yeah. You _do_."

Tami looked away. "Well, I better get to class," she said to the emptying hallway.

"A'ight. See you around?"

"I imagine so. We're next door neighbors, after all."

When she left, he headed back to his father's office, his heart pounding in his chest, because as cool as he'd played it, he'd been nervous the whole time he was talking to her.

[*]

Tami couldn't concentrate on the teacher's lecture. Something in the way Eric had said those three simple words – _Yeah, you do –_ had sent a small shiver through her. Or maybe it was the way he had been looking at her, with those hazel eyes that had so many different shades of color in them. The photo in the trophy case had not done those eyes justice at all.

"What's your opinion on the poem, Ms. Hayes?" Mr. McMullen asked. It sounded like maybe it wasn't the first time he had asked.

Tami hadn't heard the poem read aloud. She had no idea what it was about. "I thought it was very…emotionally moving."

"Really? You were _emotionally moved_ by Ogden Nash's funny little poem?"

"Umm...yes. Poems speak differently to all of us."

From behind her, a girl snickered.

[*]

After the afternoon training session, which fell during 6th period and ran over fifteen minutes after school, Eric's father made him help clean up the locker room. He'd hoped to find Tami and walk her home from school, so he was annoyed as he rolled the last cart of laundry into the laundry room and left it for the equipment manager.

He popped his head through the office doorway. "Heading home, Dad, unless you need me for anything else."

His father, engrossed in his playbook, simply waved him on. "I'll be home by six. You cook."

"Yes, sir."

But as Eric was walking through the back parking lot behind the gym, he saw Tami standing by some guy's pick-up truck and talking. So she'd already moved on from Mo, and it wasn't going to be to _him._ Of course not. She knew too much about him. She didn't want to date some guy who had a DUI and had chased skirt all last year. He bent his head to the asphalt, only to hear her say, "Oh, hi, Eric! You ready to walk home?"

He looked up, confused. "Uh, yeah..."

"Good!" she walked quickly over to him, her cowgirl boots - were those new? - clicking against the asphalt and her long legs bare beneath a jean skirt that fell just above her knees. When she got to him, she whispered, "I needed an excuse not to get a ride home with that guy."

Eric looked over her shoulder at the guy, who was getting in his truck. He didn't know the kid, but it was a big school, and the guy wasn't on the football team. "Why?"

"He heard I broke up with Mo, and he's been trying to talk to me all day. I think he likes me and I didn't want to encourage him."

She began walking, and he fell in step beside her. "Well of course he likes you."

"Why of course?"

"Uh..." Eric shrugged. "Just seemed to. What's wrong with him?" Eric was no judge of the appearance of other guys, but he hadn't seemed bad looking.

"He's cute, but he's a total idiot. He's in my history class, and he says the _dumbest_ things. Having a conversation with him is actually _painful_."

Eric smiled. "There's a guy on the team like that. Three, actually."

The walk was pretty quiet after that, with Tami asking the occasional question about his day, Eric answering briefly, and then the conversation dying again. Eric struggled to think of what to ask and say, but it was so much easier for him to communicate in writing.

When they got to their neighborhood, though, he didn't want to say goodbye. So he said, "Glad I could rescue you. Maybe you should repay me with a Coke."

"A Coke is a small price to pay. Come on in."

They didn't have any Coke, but she offered him some sweet tea. He looked around as he sipped. "Your kitchen is tiny."

"Well, we can't all be rich like you."

Eric snorted. "We aren't rich. At all. My mom stayed home with me for years. My dad only makes...I don't know what he makes. But we're not _rich._ "

"We're not poor either. My aunt apparently has quite a bit of money saved up from her previous job, before she became a counselor."

"What did she do?"

"She wrote novels under a pen name. She won't tell me the pen name."

Eric grinned. "Are they _dirty_?"

"I can only assume."

He chuckled. "Does my dad know?"

"I doubt it."

Eric put his glass down on the counter top. "So...she's like a secret millionaire?"

"Not a millionaire, but she said she can help both me and Shelley with college. Which is great, because I'm sure not getting an academic scholarship." She cocked her head at him, and he once again noticed how blue those eyes were. "Are you coming back up in April to take your S.A.T.'s?"

"Just gonna take them at a school down by the ranch." Was that disappointment in her eyes? Was she hoping to see him then? By the time he got back to Euless in June, she'd probably have a steady boyfriend. Some great, clean-cut, good-looking, smart guy who didn't have any DUIs and hadn't fooled around casually with girls and had gotten accepted to Harvard. Eric drained the rest of his sweet tea.

"Want to play Atari?" she asked.

Eric didn't really like video games. He thought they were boring and repetitive and he didn't get why so many kids liked them. "Yeah! Sure. That's be a lot of fun."

"What's your favorite game?"

"Uh..." He tried to think of one he hated least. He didn't play them often enough to know a lot of the names. "Well, it's hard to say."

"Let's play Combat because it's two player."

"Yeah. I'm great at Combat."

Except he wasn't. Tami destroyed him. She spun his little tank all over that maze-like board and defeated him in game after game. But he didn't mind, because she laughed at how bad he was, and she was beautiful when she laughed.

Four more days and then he wouldn't see her again until June.

He thought of making a move. But if he did that, and she wasn't interested...that could end everything. No more Atari. No more laughing. No more letters. Also, you weren't supposed to date an ex-teammate's steady girlfriend for at least four months after the breakup. Or maybe more. The rule wasn't too specific there. Jimmy O'Donnell had gotten away with dating Mark Walker's girl after only two months, but Mark had broken up with her, not the other way around, and by gotten away with it, Eric meant he'd only been punched one time and then the whole conflict was over and Jimmy and Mark were friends again.

Eric returned his eyes to the screen and watched his tank spiral around as the bullet hit its side.


	33. Chapter 33

"How are you doing?" Aunt Bonnie asked Tami over dinner one night - salad and lasagna.

"Fine," Tami said.

"Oh, don't b.s. me, girl. You just broke up with your steady boyfriend. You are not doing fine."

Tami put her fork down. "I'm a little hurt," she admitted. "That Mo cheated on me."

"A little?"

"I think I've been half-preparing myself for it. Part of me has known for awhile. Been ready for awhile."

Aunt Bonnie took a sip of her water and smiled. "And what brought it all to a head, then?"

Tami shrugged.

Aunt Bonnie chuckled.

Tami sat back in her chair and pushed her empty plate aside. "Why do you always act like you know something about me that I don't know about myself?"

"Because I always do," her aunt said cheerfully. "Listen, just don't rush into anything on the rebound. Take your time." She rose and began clearing the plates. Asfter she set them in the sink, she said, "You can wash."

"Are you going to clue me in?" Tami asked. "About what you _think_ you know?"

"You'll figure it out." Aunt Bonnie disappeared into the living room.

[*]

Tami did figure it out. She realized that Eric had prepared her for the truth about Mo - that he'd been dropping hints for weeks in his letters, and that he had helped to distract her from her unpleasant feelings after the break-up. He walked her home daily after spring training (she lingered for him after school), and sometimes they shared a soda or played Atari. His corny jokes made her laugh. The awkwardness between them was easing. They weren't able to talk as intimately as they could in their letters, but they were more relaxed than they had been when they fist met in person.

And yet...there was a strange tension between them that hadn't existed when they were writing. It didn't help that Eric was so easy to look at at. The truth was - Tami began to realize - that breaking up with Mo was so easy because a little part of her affection had already begun to drift to Eric. Exactly _when_ it had begun to drift, she couldn't say.

"You're a good friend," she told him as they sat on the swing on his front porch the day before his father was to drive him back to the ranch. Her aunt and his father were inside, doing dishes together, after the four had shared another meal. When Eric didn't respond, Tami lowered her head to catch his eyes.

He smiled weakly. "Friend. Yeah. Okay."

And that was when she suspected that he might be attracted to her, too. But she wasn't _sure._ And tomorrow he was leaving for the ranch, and she wouldn't see him until June. Ten weeks was a long time in high school. They couldn't start anything _now,_ could they? And would Eric even want to? Even if he _did_ like her, he had his code. She was his teammate's ex-girlfriend, and it had only been a few days since she dumped Mo. Besides, her aunt was right. She shouldn't rush into anything on the rebound. What if she was just running from buried hurt, running _from_ something instead of _to_ something?

"You'll keep writing?" she asked.

"If you do."

"Why wouldn't I?"

He shrugged, his shoulders rising and falling slowly. "You've finished the assignment, right?"

"Well...that's not the only reason I was writing."

He stretched an arm across the back of the porch swing. "No?"

She turned and drew a knee up on the swing, so it was almost touching his hip, as she faced him. "No. I...I feel like I can say things to you I can't say to other people. At least, I do in the letters."

"It's harder in person."

She nodded.

"Why is that, do you think?"

 _Because you're too good-looking,_ she thought, and smiled. "I don't know."

"I've never been good at talking to people in person. I mean, I can give a speech no problem, but small talk? I suck at that. But that's not your problem. I see you talking to people in school all the time. You're driving Mo insane with all the guys you talk to. He's trying to figure out which one you're going to date next."

"I just like people. I'm friendly. I'm not planning to date _any_ of those guys." She caught his eyes.

He bit his bottom lip. "Why not?" he asked.

She traced a pattern in the wood on the porch swing. "I think I'm not going to date for awhile. Mo turned out not to be who I thought he was. I'm beginning to wonder about my judgment in guys. I feel like, next time I date a guy, it'll have to be someone I haven't just met, you know? Someone I've gotten to know for awhile first."

"Oh."

"And I think maybe I just need to concentrate on school for the next three months."

He nodded. "That's smart thinking. You should do that. Don't date anyone for the rest of the school year."

She looked up at him again. "How about you? Think you'll be dating anyone down near the ranch?"

"Who? Billy? Dante?"

She laughed.

"I never meet any girls except on weekends at the pool and the movies. Not really a lot of time to start anything. And...I've got to concentrate on school too. I'm going to self-study a lot. So I can convince my dad I'm ready to go straight into my senior year and not repeat. Plus...S.A.T.'s in April."

"You're taking them down there?"

He nodded.

"I have to do fantastic if I want to make up for my G.P.A."

"You will," he assured her.

She smiled. Eric pushed off the porch with his foot and the swing drifted back and forth. The kitchen door opened, and Aunt Bonnie stepped out. "We're watching Airplane on that fancy VHS you got for Christmas, Eric, if y'all want to join us."

"Airplane?" Eric asked. "My father is watching Airplane?"

"Well, it was my pick," Aunt Bonnie admitted before she went back inside.

Eric stopped the swing with his feet. He stood and held out his hand to Tami to help her up. His flesh was unexpectedly smooth and hot when she slid her hand in his. "My dad must _really_ like your aunt if he's sitting through a movie like Airplane. He _hates_ slapstick comedy."

Now that she was standing, Tami let her hand slide out of his, though she didn't actually want to let go. "You may have to accept that this is serious."

"Think I can do that," he said. "Got to give your aunt credit. She's made life easier for me. He is _way_ more relaxed than he's been in a long time. I just..." He shook his head. "I don't know how it's going to work in the long-run. They're _so_ different. Someone's getting a heart broke."

"You think?"

"Yeah, and I'm guessing it isn't going to be your aunt. With her parade of boyfriends."

"Hey!"

"Sorry, I didn't - "

Tami smiled. "No. It's okay. I get what you're saying. But I think she likes him more than you think."

There was a tapping on the kitchen window. They looked up to see Tami's aunt there, holding a big green plastic bowl of popcorn. She gave them the thumbs up.

"Shall we?" Eric asked, and he held out his arm to her like an old-school gentleman.

"Yes," Tami said with a snort. "We _shall_."

She laced her arm through his and let him walk her to the door, where he stepped aside and tipped an imaginary top hat and then opened it for her.

"You're such a goofball," she told him as she walked inside.


	34. Chapter 34

Tami stood with a hand resting on the pillar that held up one end of her carport and watched Eric throw some things into the bed of his father's pick-up next door. Eric caught sight of her, said something to his father, and began to make his way over the brownish-green grass between them. Tami wished her heart would stop fluttering. He was just coming to say goodbye, after all.

Eric put his hand above hers on the pillar. "Hey," he said.

"Hey," she said.

"Guess this is goodbye."

She slid her free hand into the front pocket of her jean shorts, because she didn't quite know what else to do with it. "Guess so."

He chewed on his bottom lip, and neither of them seemed to be able to think of anything to say.

"Do you want to kiss me goodbye?" She hadn't meant to say that. Why the hell had she said _that_? Eric stood there, blinking. "Never mind," she said hastily.

"No! I want to! I mean..." He licked his lips. "What...what kind of kiss?"

She laughed. "Well, maybe we should just kiss and let the kiss figure out what kind of kiss it's going to be?"

"That sounds reasonable." His eyes twinkled. "The kiss should decide."

The kiss decided to be hesitant at first, and then deeper, and finally, it decided to transform into a French kiss. Eric's hand slid down on top of hers, pinning it to the pole, and he put an arm around her waist and pulled her to himself, until their bodies were pressed together almost as closely as their lips.

Tami broke away breathing hard. "You better go. Your dad's staring at us."

Eric glanced behind himself, but Coach Taylor had retreated inside the pick-up. "Yeah," he said. "Well…some goodbye kiss. You always tell guys goodbye like that?"

She smiled and shrugged. "Only the cute ones who promise to write me at least twice a week."

"I promise." His hand slipped off of hers on the pillar. He was grinning when he turned away, and there was a little hop in his step as he headed back to the truck.

[*]

Eric's father didn't say anything for the first half hour of the drive. Sports radio played at a low murmur. Eric hated the way his father always kept the volume on the radio low, even when he was listening to music. Coach Taylor was like the opposite of an old man going deaf. Loud noises irritated him. Eric wondered how he tolerated the fans roaring and the band playing at football games. He was a good coach, Eric had to admit, but he was weird. His father was just plain weird.

Eric reached out and turned the radio up.

His father turned it back down.

"I can't hear that," Eric said.

"Then you need to stop putting the volume up to ten on your Walkman. You'll blow your ear drums out."

"Seriously doubt that."

"Studies have been conducted," his father said. "It's a fact. Loud music damages your hearing."

"Yeah, well, I suppose you can hear a needle drop in a haystack."

"That's not how that phrase goes."

"I modified it," Eric said. "For context."

"What the hell do you think you're doing with Tami?"

Oh. Wow. That came out of nowhere. "I don't know what you're talking about it."

"You were over there on the porch…what do you kids call it? Sucking face?"

"I don't know anyone who calls it that." Eric looked out the passenger's window. Cars zipped by on the highway. His father drove too slow.

"I told you to behave yourself around her."

"I wasn't misbehaving myself," Eric muttered. "She _asked_ me to kiss her goodbye."

"Did she now?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact." Eric jerked his head back to look at him. "And I happen to like her. So drop it."

"Well I happen to like her aunt."

"So? What's that got to do with anything?"

"If you break that girl's heart…." His father shook his head. "Bonnie's not going to be happy with me."

"We aren't even dating! It was just a kiss. She's not _in love_ with me. She'll probably find someone else before I even get off that damn ranch anyway."

"I thought you were starting to like the ranch."

Eric slapped down his sun visor as the rays of light shot a painful pattern through the windshield. "I don't hate it anymore. But I'd rather be in Euless."

His father lowered his sunglasses from his coach's cap over his eyes. "So you can see Tami?"

"So I can get on with my life."

"You've still got a lot to learn."

"Look, Dad, I'm doing what you want, okay? I'm keeping my head down and my nose clean. And I'm studying, and I'm working hard, and I'm not drinking. I'm doing what you want. What more do you want from me?"

"Honestly? I want you to promise me to be a perfect gentleman with Tami, so you don't risk screwing up this thing I've got going with Bonnie! Because I think I love her."

"Oh." Love? Eric knew he really _liked_ her, but _love_? They hadn't been dating that long. His dad had never loved anyone but his mother. There'd been girls before his mom, but Eric was pretty sure Deacon Taylor hadn't loved any of them. "Huh."

His father sighed like maybe he hadn't meant to say that. "It doesn't mean I love your mother any less."

"Yeah. Okay." Eric felt a strange wave of sadness sweep over him. He gritted his teeth and looked out the window again. "I won't screw it up. I'm not playing around with Tami. It's not like that. I don't know what it is, or what it's going to be. But it's not like that."

"Good." His father reached out and turned up the sports radio.

[*]

 _Monday, April 11, 1983_

 _Dear Tami,_

 _So I'm settled back at the ranch. Billy popped his knee this morning trying to break a horse, so we're out a player for the ranch football league. But this chick he met on one their trip to the pool last weekend when I was gone came to visit him in the hospital. We didn't even know they were talking on the phone. Billy's not exactly a Casanova, so we were all kind of shocked he has a girlfriend. Apparently he called her from the hospital and told her he was there._

Tami's heart sunk a little as she read this paragraph. Eric had told her it wasn't possible for them to have girlfriends on the ranch. If Billy could get a girlfriend, then surely Eric could.

 _She's sort of white trash, but then, so's Billy. She seemed kind of dumb but sweet and cute. I don't guess he cares about dumb, but he's a lot smarter than he lets on. I'd get bored of cute and sweet after awhile. I mean you can't just look at someone forever. Sometimes you've got to talk._

 _Anyhow, Grandpa was a little pissed off Billy was breaking the rules about phone calls. You're only supposed to have so many a week on the ranch program, because it is kind of an alternative to juvie, and there are stupid rules about all that. You're only supposed to call parents or guardians._

Tami guessed that meant he couldn't call her.

 _Billy was apparently sneaking out to the living room and calling her every night after everyone was in bed. So now, when his knee's better, he gets to muck out the stalls every day for two weeks. Which means none of the rest of us have to do that even one day that week. I feel bad for him, but glad for me. Shoveling shit is not my favorite chore. Excuse my French. I told Billy he should just write her until he can bust this joint._

 _How's school going? Mo leaving you alone, or is he trying to get you back? Did you sign up for that YMCA spring volleyball league I told you about?_

 _Still thinking about that kiss._

He signed his name without a salutation. Maybe he thought "sincerely" was too impersonal now.

[*]

 _Wednesday, April 13, 1983_

 _Dear Eric,_

 _Well I'm happy for Billy. From what you said, he seems like someone who's had a crappy life and could use a little something nice in his life. Having someone who likes you is nice._

 _Yeah, I signed up for the rec league. my first game is Saturday. Only one practice to gel as a team before then. Crazy fast. But it'll be fun. I like most of the other girls. Only one is a total bitch._

 _School is school._

 _How did you know Mo would be trying to get me back? He left a flower in my locker yesterday with a note saying he was sorry, so I probably need to get the combination changed. Then he cornered me in the hall and told me you were lying about him having a girlfriend, and I told him you weren't the one who told me – because, technically you didn't – and we had this big blow out and the principal stopped and told us to get on to class. It was embarrassing. I guess his persistence is kind of flattering, but I don't trust him anymore. I am not looking to date anyone right now._

 _And I'm still thinking about that kiss, too._

 _-Tami_

[*]

 _Saturday, April 16, 1983_

 _Dear Tami,_

 _How'd your game go? Wish I could have been there to see you play._

 _So….ready for your S.A.T. next Saturday? Is that when you have them? Mine was today. Can't tell you what was on it, though, under threat of being drawn and quartered, according to the proctor. Not that I remember. I blocked it all out. I think I did okay._

 _I knew Mo would try to get you back because what's that phrase? You don't realize what you got 'til it's gone. And you're pretty fantastic. Smart, funny, gorgeous. And a really good kisser, I might add._

 _Mo takes stuff for granted a lot, like the fact that his dad's kind of loaded and he doesn't have to work for a car and that the team has a good defense that will pick up his slack and make up for it sometimes when he's not so hot on the offense. But I guess I take things for granted to. Never really realized how good I had it to have two parents who loved each other, you know? But I think…your folks are divorced, and Mo's and a lot of other ones…and my mom's dead, but at least I had that while I had it, you know?_

 _Okay, time for the four questions. I forgot them last letter._

 _1\. If you could have dinner with three celebrities, who would they be? Living or dead._

 _2\. What's your favorite drink?_

 _3\. What's your favorite type of sandwich?_

 _4\. If you don't have a steady boyfriend by the time I get back in June, do you want to go on a date with me? I'll have my driver's license back by then, so I was thinking of driving up to Lake Grapevine, swimming, and having a picnic._

 _-Eric_

Eric always felt nervous asking a girl on a date, even when he knew they were going to say yes. He thought Tami would - she said she was thinking about the kiss, after all - but he didn't know, and he wouldn't get her response for days. It was with some trepidation that he put up the flag on that mailbox.


	35. Chapter 35

"I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to kick you out of my bed now." Bonnie trailed her fingertips over Coach Taylor's bare chest. He liked the way she did that – teasing and sexy.

He pulled her close until her bare breasts were pressed against him and kissed her. "One more time."

"We've done it twice already. And Tami's S.A.T. is over in half an hour."

"I think we can squeeze it in. I can be fast as a jackrabbit."

Bonnie laughed. "As flattering as that is, no. I _like_ that you take your time. And I want to be sure we're out of this bed before she gets home."

Coach Taylor sighed, rolled out of bed and began dressing. He could feel Bonnie's eyes on him. "You like to watch, don't you?"

"You aren't a bad-looking man."

"Once again, she damns me with faint praise." His khakis now on, he crawled back over her and began to kiss her and fondle a breast. She slapped his hand away. "Out."

He let his palm fall flat on the mattress and looked down at her. "When do we get to do this again?"

"You're patient for weeks and weeks and weeks, and now you can't get enough?"

"Well, you give a camel a drop of water…" He shrugged, freed her from her pinned position, and pulled on his polo.

"That is the worst metaphor I've ever heard."

"Good thing I'm not an English teacher."

She sat up and kissed the back of his neck. It had been a little strange making love, for the first time in over twenty years, to a woman who wasn't his wife. He'd felt guilty and exhilarated. He'd tried things he considered time-tested, but that didn't happen to work for Bonnie, and he'd found the things that did. Coach Taylor had gotten a nervous thrill from the process of exploration and discovery. He was eager to please her and afraid of not doing so, but he'd also been spurred by his competitive nature to "win" at this game. Based on the sounds she'd made the first time – and especially the second – he judged he'd done well.

He turned and swept her naked into his lap and kissed her. "When can we? You know, I've got that big house all to myself. Anytime you want…"

She laughed, low and sultry. "I don't want to do it when Tami's home, even if we're at your house. I feel weird having her next door while we're doing it. And I'm trying to set a good example."

"You're a grown-up Bonnie. It's okay for you to have different rules."

"Am I grown up?" she asked, and kissed him playfully. She ran her fingers over her ears. "Tami's going to Six Flags with some friends next Sunday, and I only have one client at noon, so I think we'll have the better part of the day to ourselves."

He winced. "I have a coach's conference in Waco all weekend."

"Can't say I didn't offer." She slid out of his lap, walked through the open door of the adjoining bathroom, and turned on the shower. He admired her as she bent over to do it.

"Want me to join you and wash your back?" he asked.

She walked back from the shower and leaned against the door frame, stark naked and completely unashamed. She really was something else.

"No."

He groaned.

"I want you to go back to your house, take your _own_ shower, and then fix me lunch like a gentleman."

"Yes, ma'am." He stood and strode over to the doorway of the bathroom, pulled her close, and kissed her. "It's going to need to be a very cold shower."

"I'm surprised you recover as fast as you do," she teased, pushing him away.

"Because I'm such an old man?"

"You're virile though." She turned, walked to the shower, and slipped a hand between the wall and the curtain to test the water.

"Bonnie?"

"Mhmhm," she murmured, turning slightly.

"I love you."

She blinked, her long lashes falling and rising with surprise over those beautiful green eyes.

Coach Taylor sighed. "I know you probably don't feel that way. Yet. And that's fine. I just thought you should know."

"Yet?" she asked.

He smirked. "I'm going to _make_ you fall in love with me."

She smiled. "Are you?"

"When I set a goal, I usually achieve it."

"Well, you're too late."

His heart seized and his face fell. What the hell did that mean? Was she dumping him already? "What does that mean?"

"It means I _already_ love you, silly. Why do you think I finally let you in my bed?" She slipped behind the curtain.

[*]

Eric slid in the rocking chair on the back porch next to Billy, who had his leg with the bad knee up on a wicker table. "Don't milk that knee too much," Eric warned him. "You'll be shoveling shit soon enough." He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his arm – he'd been pulling up onions all morning – and then guzzled the lemonade he'd brought out for siesta.

"Tami write ya back yet?" Billy asked.

"Mail still hasn't come. Should have been here yesterday, if she wrote back right away."

"I reckon the mail gets delayed sometimes."

"I shouldn't have asked her out." Eric set his empty glass on the small stand between their chairs.

"Even though she ain't nothin' but B list?" Billy asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Nah man, she's A+ list."

"Kind of like my girl, huh?"

Eric thought Billy's girl was more B- list, but he didn't say so. "Yeah."

"Don't be lookin' at my girl."

Eric held up a hand defensively. " _You_ can't even look at her. Can't even call her anymore."

"I'll see her when we go to the pool. She'll be there. Bide my time when the old man's not lookin', and we'll steal some kisses. 'Sides, she gave me a photo of herself to jerk off to."

"Romantic," Eric muttered.

" _Topless_."

"Yeah, well don't get sent back to juvie for possession of child porn."

"She's eighteen."

Eric rocked. "I was joking."

"You'd be surprised what a cop'll add to the charges if'n he don't like ya. Always find somethin'."

"Billy, no one set you up or sent you up. You're here, and I'm here, because we both _screwed_ up. That was _us_. That wasn't anybody else."

"Maybe," Billy conceded. "Tami give you a picture?"

"No, but if she did, I sure as hell wouldn't show you." Eric stood. "I'm going to check the mail again."

To Eric's relief, the mail had arrived, and with it, a letter from Tami. He went to his secret mesquite tree, settled back against the trunk, and ripped the letter open.

Wednesday, April 20, 1983

 _Dear Eric,_

 _We won our first game! This week's game is tomorrow because so many of us are taking the S.A.T. this Saturday. I think I'm ready, but I'm still nervous._

Eric wished he could call her and ask her how the test went. She would be done with it by now. Maybe he'd pull a Billy and sneak out and use the phone tonight, but then her aunt might answer, and tell his father…and he'd get a smack down for breaking the rules.

 _My hairbrush broke today and I went into my aunt's room to snag another one, and I found a bag from Victoria's Secret by her dresser. I think someone's getting lucky soon. It kind of wigs me out. Does it wig you out?_

Yes, it wigged him out. It seriously wigged him out. Not so much that his father was moving on - Eric was gradually coming to grips with that - but that the two of them should be interested in an aunt-niece pair. That was just going to be increasingly weird.

 _So, to answer your questions:_

 _1\. Harrison Ford because…hello! Indiana Jones. Bill Cosby, because he's hilarious and my favorite comedian and seems like a nice family guy. And Queen Elizabeth I because…just because._

 _2\. Sweet tea with lemon._

 _3\. Ham and cheese. Not complicated!_

 _4\. You just want to see me in a swimsuit, don't you? Yes, I'll go out with you, if we're both still not with anyone then. And I'm not planning to date this semester, so…._

Eric pumped his fist. "Yes!" A roadrunner ceased in its rapid journey across the dirt and tilted its head at him before scurrying on.

 _Mo's gotten the message finally and is leaving me alone. That and he got a new girlfriend. Well, a new one here. Guess he still has the old one in Grapevine too._

 _Four questions for you:_

 _Actually, no. I'll write you another letter tomorrow with your four questions. That way you'll get more mail. It must get boring and lonely on that ranch sometimes._

 _\- Tami_

Eric read the letter twice more before the loud bell rung from the ranch to signal that siesta was over. He folded it up and shoved it in his jeans pocket before putting on his cowboy hat and heading back to work.


	36. Chapter 36

Saturday, April 23, 1983

Dear Tami,

Congrats on your game. How did your second game go and how did you feel about the SAT? I bet you aced it.

I don't think it's very nice to accuse me of ulterior motives with the whole lake date plan. I just want to take you on a nice picnic, and it gets hot in summer, so we ought to swim. You need a bathing suit to swim, right. And if you HAPPEN to want to wear a bikini instead of a one piece, who am I to judge? So I'll pack us up a picnic basket with ham and cheese sandwiches and ice tea with lemon, a nice blanket, and we'll call it a date.

Please do NOT keep me informed about your aunt's lingerie purchases. I don't want to think about that. I mean, about my dad doing the wild thing, getting jiggy with it, doing the nasty – am I missing any terms for it? Don't want to think about it. Period. On the other hand, if your aunt keeps him relaxed maybe he'll more easily agree to my plan not to repeat my junior year.

How do you think she feels about him? Don't get me wrong here. I'm not criticizing your aunt, but, you know, she's never been married and it sounds like she's had a lot of boyfriends. Do you think she's going to be done with him at some point? And, if so, could you persuade her to at least hold off until after the next football season? That would be helpful. Because I don't want him taking it out on the team if he gets dumped.

\- Eric

[*]

Monday, April 25, 1983

Dear Tami,

So I got the letter with your four questions.

1\. I don't have a favorite color. I really couldn't care less. But not pink.

2\. My favorite actress is Jamie Lee Curtis. She was pretty awesome in those Halloween movies, right?

3\. My favorite movie candy is Junior Mints. That way your breath is minty fresh if you want to make out while you're watching the movie.

4\. Yes, I will totally go to the movies with you on our second date. I don't know why you had to add that "if we make it to the second date" part. Have a little faith in me. I can be very charming when I want to be.

\- Eric

[*]

Wednesday, April 27, 1983

Dear Tami,

It was cool to get another letter from you already. Glad you feel good about the SAT. Sorry you got slaughtered in your second game, but it's good practice for when you play for school, right? I'm actually proudest of my performance in a game we lost. We lost by 14 points, but to a team that usually beats our school by twice that. I closed that gap. With my team's help, of course.

Okay, I will add "doing the horizontal" to my terminology list.

I'm glad you don't think your aunt is going to dump my dad anytime soon. It's still weird to me that he's with someone who's not my mom, but, you know, I don't want him crying into his beer either, right? Especially not now when we've kind of started getting along again. Also, he's probably a good catch for any middle-age woman - financially stable, sober, cleans up nice. Behaves himself. I guess at that age that's the best a girl can hope for. I mean, most guys who are still available at that point are fat gamblers with skin problems, I'm guessing.

\- Eric

[*]

Thursday, April 29, 1983

Dear Tami,

I'm liking this every other day letter thing. No, I was not joking about Jamie Lee Curtis. What's not to like?

No, you should NOT go to the junior prom with that guy from your math class as "just a friend." I don't know that guy, but I DO know he doesn't just want to be your friend. He wants to get in your pants. 100% guaranteed.

Listen, no one who is anyone goes to _junior_ prom, anyway. Everyone's saving up money for senior prom. That's the big one. And I'll happen to be back in Euless well before then, so, you know, if you don't have a date and I don't have a date…Just makes sense, right?

\- Eric

P.S. I miss hanging out with you in person. I had a really good time doing that. I mean, the kiss was great, but I liked playing Atari with you, too.

[*]

The shrill beeping of the alarm clock was worse than the sound of nails on a chalkboard. Coach Taylor rolled over, reached an arm across Bonnie's naked body curled beneath the sheets, and slammed down on the snooze button before throwing himself onto his back and closing his eyes again.

"Did we doze off?" she asked.

"Mhmmm."

"Good idea to set that alarm just in case." She slid out of his bed and began dressing. How could she be so cheerful and bouncy after an unplanned nap? He always felt groggy.

He pulled himself into a sitting position against the headboard, the sheet falling to his waist, and rubbed his eyes. When she was mostly dressed, she sat back down on the bed beside him, put a hand on the sheet at his hip, and leaned in to kiss him. "That was nice," she said.

"Nice?"

"Better than nice." She smiled, and her green eyes twinkled. "I had a very good time."

"I wish you could stay the night."

"Tami will be back from that movie in thirty minutes. I have responsibilities, you know."

"It's a good thing you're doing for your niece." He turned a little toward her and rested a hand on her arm. "Listen, I need to talk to you about something."

She pouted a little. "Oh, that's never a good opening. That's what my second to last boyfriend told me when he dumped me."

"I'm not dumping you."

"Good. Because I just bought a new pair of crotchless panties."

Coach Taylor blinked. "Never heard of that."

"Because you're a dinosaur. But you'll like them, I promise."

"What's the point, exactly?"

"Well, you can leave them on while we..."

"But I like to take them off," he said.

"Then you can take them off."

"Hmmm..."

She laughed. He smiled. "What do you want to talk about?" she asked.

"Where do you see this relationship going?"

"Wow. It's usually not the man who asks that question."

"May I be blunt?"

She nodded. "I like bluntness."

"Well, you like _being_ blunt. I'm not so sure you like being on the receiving end."

She smiled. "Be blunt with me."

"Well...here's the thing. I liked being married to my wife. It wasn't always perfect, but I liked the married state. I want to be married again someday. I don't like being alone. And I don't like..." He waved a hand up and down her dressed body and then his naked body. "This rushing off thing. I know it's too early to pop that question, but I also know you've never been married. And I know you were more reluctant about this relationship than I was from the start. I'm wondering if...what I'm trying to say is..." He sighed. "I don't want to waste my time. I'm not getting any younger. My chances of finding a second wife grow dimmer by the hour. If this relationship goes well for another six months, I'm going to ask you to marry me."

"Oh. Wow."

"And if you already _know_ you're going to say no, I'd appreciate it if you would just tell me that _now_ and put me out of my misery, so I can concentrate on finding someone who will say yes."

"I thought you loved me."

"I do."

"Well..." She shook her head. "You're making it sound like I'm perfectly replaceable to you."

"You're not. It will probably take me a long time to find an adequate replacement for you. That's why I want to get started sooner rather than later if you already know you aren't going to marry me."

"Deacon, honey, you may well be the least romantic person I have _ever_ met."

He shrugged. "Maybe I've just developed a different concept of romance."

"And what's that?"

"Agreeing to love someone and making it work."

"How can I know what I'll say in six months?"

"You can't," he admitted. "But surely you can hazard an estimate. If chances are over 50 percent that you'll say no, maybe we should acknowledge we want different things out of life."

She raised an eyebrow. "What if chances are 49.5 percent that I'll say yes? Would you give it another month to see if you can get it up to 50 percent?"

"Yes."

"What if the chances are only 48.95 percent that I'll say yes in six months? That's it? We part ways today?"

"Well...I mean, that's not _that_ much of a difference."

"47.235 percent?"

"Bonnie, be serious. I'm being serious."

"You're _always_ being serious." She bent and kissed his lips, then his ear. "Enjoy the journey," she whispered.

Then she stood and headed for the doorway of his bedroom. "Hey!" he called after her. "You didn't answer my question."

She turned and leaned with one arm stretched out an up against the door frame, in a way that emphasized her figure to full effect. "I don't need to answer the question, Deacon. Admit it. You want to see those crotchless panties, and you're not going anywhere until you do."

She turned and began to walk out.

"Next weekend?" he called after her.

"Yep," she answered as she disappeared down the hallway.


	37. Chapter 37

Tuesday, May 3, 1983

Dear Eric,

I decided to go to junior prom with Kimberley instead of that guy from my class. You're right. I don't think he's just interested in friendship.

I don't suppose you are either?

Anyway, Kimmy and I are going to get high on punch and dance the night away and then maybe have a pillow fight. At least that's probably what you're imagining. Really, we're going to sit at one of the tables half the time and exchange running commentary on the stuck-up cheerleaders. And I'm just wearing a regular dress I already own and we're going out to dinner at the DQ first, so it's not like I'll be blowing much money on this. I'll save it for my senior prom dress, in case I have some good-looking guy to go with who took dance lessons once because his mom made him. Not that I'm thinking of anyone in particular.

\- Tami

[*]

Friday, May 6, 1983

Dear Tami,

I AM interested in friendship. You're probably the best friend I have in Euless right now. But I'm not gonna lie and say that's ALL I'm interested in. I liked kissing you. A lot.

Good choice of date for the prom. I haven't met Kimberley yet, but she sounds cool. I'm sure you'll look gorgeous in any dress you already own. Not all of the cheerleaders are stuck-up, you know. Only about 70 percent.

Billy's all healed up and grandpa is running him ragged. Dante just got a scholarship offer to college. Billy says he's going to go for his GED. Me, I'm studying from all these text books my dad mailed me so I can a leg up and I've already registered for summer school. I wanted to work to earn money this summer, but I'm going to be in classes six hours a day, so I'm only going to be able to work weekends, which is going to cut into our dating time, but we can still figure out how to see each other. I might have to change the Saturday afternoon lake picnic to a Friday dinner picnic? Hey, we can watch the sunset. That's romantic, right?

It's getting too hot for football already, so we're wrapping up the ranch league with the championship game next weekend. I think we'll win tomorrow and then make it into the final game. Wish me luck. How was junior prom?

\- Eric

[*]

Tuesday, May 10, 1983

Dear Eric,

So are we officially dating now? Because that's kind of how it sounded from your letter, which is kind of weird, since we haven't actually gone on a single real date yet. But I can run with that.

I'm enclosing a Polaroid photo Kimberley took of me at the junior prom. You can judge for yourself whether or not the dress sucks. This was taken before Carolyn Miller slapped Bobby Johnson across the face for cheating on her with Karen Jackson and he stumbled back into Mo McArnlod's new girlfriend and she spilled her red punch all over the dress. If I hadn't seen the entire domino chain reaction with my own eyes, I'd think Mo's new girlfriend did it just because she was jealous or something. I wonder if I should tell her he's got another girl in Grapevine? Not my rodeo, not my bull I guess.

Did you win your last game? Give me the play by play. Actually, please don't. Just let me know if you won or not. And maybe have Billy or Dante snap a Polaroid of you playing and send it to me? The sweatier the better. And, you know, if you're playing shirts vs. skins...make sure you're on the skins.

\- Tami

Eric chuckled and pulled the Polaroid out of the enveloped and smiled to see Tami in her dress. It might be an old dress, but she sure looked good in it.

A whistle sounded from behind him on the porch. Eric jerked his head around to see Billy standing there. "Nice tits," he said.

"Hey!"

"Well, they are. Especially in that get up."

Eric tossed the letter and photo on the end table beside the rocking chair he was sitting in and leaped into a standing position to whirl on Billy. "You watch your mouth when you're talking about my girlfriend."

"Oh, she's your girlfriend now?"

Eric shrugged. He gathered up the photo and letter. "I don't know," he admitted. "Maybe."

Billy laughed. "It's time to milk the cows again, Romeo." The screen door creaked as he went back into the ranch house.

[*]

"Oh, wow," Bonnie said. She laughed through her heavy breaths. "Oh wow that was...wow."

"Not bad for a dinosaur, hmm?" Deacon asked.

She rolled from her back onto her side and curled up against him, a hand on his bare hip and her head on his shoulder. "You do seem to have a few tricks up your sleeve. But you're not that old. You're not even old enough to be my father."

"I'm not sure I'm old enough to be anyone's father."

"Trouble with Eric?" she asked and propped her head up on one hand, her elbow on the pillow.

He looked up into her pretty green eyes. "Not really. Things have actually been pretty good between us lately, but, then again, he's not living here. He comes home in two weeks. I'm a little worried we'll lock horns."

"Then _don't_ lock horns with him. Deacon, that's entirely within your power."

"He thinks he can push through his failed junior year in one summer and load up on difficult classes his senior year. But with football...it's going to be harder than he thinks."

"Maybe he _can_ do it," she said. "Maybe he can't. But if it's what he's decided he's going to try to do, why not encourage him? If he fails, it's not going to be less disappointing because you told him he probably would."

"I'm a little worried his game will suffer."

She stroked his cheek. "You might have to choose between being his coach and being his father on this one."

"But _as_ his father...Bonnie, I pulled him from the team before the season was over. If he goes straight into his senior year, he only has one last season to make an impression. This is going to determine his scholarship chances. His future. If he's taking a heavy course load..." He shook his head. " _And_ he's seeing Tami?"

" _Is_ he going to be seeing Tami?" Bonnie asked.

"I suspect."

"She does talk about his letters an awful lot."

"That and the making out on the porch before he left."

Bonnie sat all the way up in bed. "What?"

"Well, they were kissing before he went back to the ranch."

"And you're just _now_ telling me this?"

"I assumed you knew," he said. Now he sat up because it felt odd to be lying down with her all riled up.

"Why would I know?"

"I thought you were the hip aunt and Tami told you everything."

Bonnie rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Well, clearly she doesn't. I _know_ she likes him. I didn't know they'd already kissed. Was it a long kiss?"

"It's not as if I _watched_ the entire time. But..." He nodded. "They were playing tonsil hockey."

Bonnie chuckled. "Tonsil hockey."

"So I shouldn't try to be hip and use the kids' vernacular?"

"No."

He smiled. So did she. He lay on his side and patted the bed. "Come back down here and curl up."

She did. "We only have another hour," she warned him.

He kissed her shoulder, her neck, and then her ear. "Plenty of time to show you a few more of the tricks I have up my sleeve." He toyed gently with one of her breasts. "so what are my odds now? When I pop the question in five months?"

"51.75 percent."

"Hmmm..." He slid his hand downward. "Let's see if I can elevate those."

"You're going to elevate something, all right."

He laughed. "God, woman, you make me feel like a teenager again."

She rolled over and faced him. "See, the sneaking around's kind of fun, isn't it?"

"For now," he said, "But..." His protest was swallowed by her kiss.


	38. Chapter 38

Tami twirled the spaghetti around her fork and popped it into her mouth.

"So…." her Aunt Bonnie said, and Tami knew that tone. It meant she was about to pry. "Why didn't you give me the 411 on you locking lips with Eric before he left?"

Tami swallowed. She took a sip of her water before answering. " _411_? Really, auntie? And _locking lips_?"

"I thought we were being open and honest with each other. Are you just going to treat me like you do your mother?"

"I didn't think it was necessary for me to give you the play by play on my love life. It's not like you showed me the lingerie you bought for Coach Taylor."

Her aunt flushed red, and Tami regretted her words.

"I'm a grown woman, Tami. And Deacon and I took things very slowly for a while. You, on the other hand, are a teenage girl. Your brain is still developing. And I care about you and I don't want you to rush into anything with Eric when he gets back to Euless."

"Who says I'm planning to _rush_? What, just because I make _one_ mistake in my life, you think…" Now she was getting angry. She shook his head. "We're planning to go on a date. A date. To a _lake_. Not a hotel. What are you thinking?"

"What I'm _thinking_ is that you really like Eric. You two have gotten pretty close by writing to each other. So when you're together in person, there's already going to be a certain intimacy there, an intimacy a couple doesn't usually have on a first date. And I think he hasn't been with a girl in a long time, and he's going to be eager. And I think you're both teenagers. And you've got those hormones - " She waved her hand in the air, "dancing all crazy every which way. And I just want you to be aware of all that and make sure you don't rush into anything. Because I _care_ about you."

Aunt Bonnie was not going to stop talking about this, Tami was sure, unless she changed the subject. "So how serious are things with you and Coach Taylor?"

"Pretty serious." Aunt Bonnie attacked her spaghetti. "Although, honestly, sometimes I wonder if he's just looking for a replacement for his wife and any woman will do."

"Really?" Tami asked. "He didn't want that other woman he dated for like a week. He wanted _you_."

"I suppose."

Tami sat back in her chair. Aunt Bonnie was always slipping into counselor mode with her, and she saw several clients a day that she guided through life, but…. "Who counsels you?"

"What?"

" _Who_ counsels _you_? Who do you have to talk to about…things?" Aunt Bonnie wasn't particularly close to Tami's mother. Mom had turned to her little sister when she didn't know what else to do, but before then, they'd seen each other only occasionally. They talked on the phone maybe once a month. Tami wasn't aware of her aunt having any female friends, though it seemed she'd always had a boyfriend. None of those relationships had ended in marriage. The one that cam nearest...well, Aunt Bonnie hadn't even told Tami's mother she was engaged before it had dissolved painfully. "Like, who do you talk to about the fact that you can't seem to form permanent bonds?"

"What?" Aunt Bonnie spat.

"Sorry, sorry…I didn't mean…" Tami shook her head. "It's just…Like you said, you're a grown up. You're a _grown up_ , and yet I think I'm the first person you've lived with since you left home at eighteen."

"I was seventeen when I left home, actually," Aunt Bonnie said. "And you're right. I've found a way to sabotage every relationship I've had. And I _did_ start talking to someone about that and other things a few years ago. I started seeing a counselor. If I hadn't, I don't think I could have invited you into my home. And I don't think I could have gotten engaged to Broderick."

 _Broderick,_ Tami thought. That was the man's name. She'd never met him. She thought his name was _Roderick._

"So I finally did _grow-up_ and agree to form a _permanent bond_ with someone. And for an _entire year_ he'd been cheating on me."

"Oh."

"And you know what the worst part of it was? She wasn't even _prettier_ than me." Aunt Bonnie sighed and shook her head. "No, that's not the worst part. The _worst_ part is that part of me knew what kind of man he was. I knew from the _start_. And part of me probably picked him because that part of me knew it would _have_ to implode eventually. And then I'd be alone again."

"Do you _like_ being alone? Do you wish I wasn't here?"

"No, sweetheart. I'm _glad_ you're here, Tami. I want to be a part of your life. I wasn't enough a part of your life for the first sixteen years. I wasn't there for your mom, either. But I want to be there now – for you, for Shelley – and for my sister, to give her the support she needs to focus on _herself_ for a while and get back up on her feet. She's always been living too much for other people, and I've always been living too much for myself. But I admit – I do like having my independence. Did your mother ever tell you about our stepfather?"

Tami shook her head. "She never talked about grandpa. And she never took us to visit him. Was he abusive? Is that it?"

"Yes, but not physically."

Tami felt suddenly sick. "Oh God!"

"Not sexually either," Aunt Bonnie hastened.

"Then how?"

"He was just extremely controlling. _Extremely_. Compulsively. Our dad was a good man, but he didn't plan. He didn't leave our mother insurance or anything. She was desperate, so she rushed into a second marriage when he died. And after years of living with my stepfather...that man...determining what I ate, what I wore, who my friends were, what classes I took in high school, when I wen to bed, when I woke up, what books I read, what movies I saw, what music I listened to, how I set the table - just so - after six years of him regulating every detail of my life – I just wanted to make my own decisions. I didn't want a roommate or a husband or anyone else telling me how to live or even asking me to compromise."

"And you didn't want to rush into marriage the way _your_ mom did?" Tami asked.

"Exactly. You'd make a good counselor, you know. You should major in psychology. "

Tami raised an eyebrow.

"If you _want_. I'm not _telling_ you what to do." Aunt Bonnie smiled.

Tami smiled back.

"Except with Eric," she said, pointing a fork across the table at her. "Don't have sex with Eric."

[*]

May 20, 1983

Dear Tami,

Got both your letters on the same day, so sorry if this seems later.

Glad you liked the photo of me I sent you. Hope it was sweaty enough. I mean, that I was sweaty enough. It would be kind of gross if the photo was sweaty.

I loved your photo too. I have it pinned on the wall by my bunk. Wait, that sounded bad. I don't mean I think of you as a pin-up. I mean, I DO think you're as gorgeous as any pin-up, but I don't think of you like that. I mean, I don't think of you ONLY like that. Wait, I mean - you know I think I'm just going to stop right there.

My dad's coming down Memorial Day weekend. We're going to slaughter a fatted calf for the prodigal when he comes. No, seriously, we are. Not a calf. A big old cow. And then we're going to have the best BBQ this side of the Rio Grande. Then I say goodbye to everyone, and he's driving me home on June 1st.

I'm glad to be going home, but you know, I'm a little sadder than I expected to be, too. I'm going to miss these guys. They've become like brothers. And I don't really know what I'm going back to in Euless, to be honest. My team...they were like brothers, too, but...not like this. Not like these guys here. I just feel different now. My teammates knew the old Eric. I don't know if they're gonna like the new one. I don't know if I'm going to fit in anymore. I don't know if I ever really did. And, being honest here, I'm a little nervous about that.

Being honest here...when I think of coming back...You're the one thing I'm most looking forward to.

\- Eric

[*]

Mary 23, 1983

Dear Eric,

Well I like the new Eric. A lot. And I think you're team is going to like you, too, and if they don't, screw them.

So you'll be home before school lets out. June 3rd is the last day here.

So when is our first date / lake picnic date going to be exactly? That Saturday? Or do you need time to settle in and recover first? I can't do it the next weekend because I have to go help my mom move. We're moving her to an apartment near her new job, and then we're going to move Shelley here. She'll be in school with us next year, so you'll get to see how annoying she is. I love her to bits, don't get me wrong, but...well, you'll see. She's going to be a popular freshman though I guarantee you.

Anyway, we'll be gone that Friday through Sunday. You don't start summer school until that following Monday, right?

\- Tami

[*]

May 27, 1983

Dear Tami,

Yeah, let's do our date that first Saturday.

I'll be helping y'all move that next weekend, actually. Your aunt talked my dad into helping her help your mom, and then he drafted me. I'll show off my heavy lifting skills for you.

Yeah, summer school starts the Monday after that weekend. Summer training is in August, but I'll be done with summer school by then. The Dairy Queen manager already said he'll hire me back part-time. I'll be working Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays 6-10, and summer school is 8-5. So it's going to be a busy summer. Did you get a summer job yet? I hope you have off Saturday nights and Sundays so we can hang. I mean, I am going to have to study occasionally, too. And I need to run plays and work-out and all that, too.

God, I hope I don't kill myself this summer.

With Sunday and the holiday, I may actually see you before you see this letter.

\- Eric


	39. Chapter 39

Bonnie kept a big smile on her face until her new client shut the door on her way out, and then her smile faded. That lady was a complete nutbar. Coo-coo as a cuckoo clock. Bonnie wasn't going to be able to help her. She was going to have to refer her to a clincial psychiatrist. She'd let her know when they reviewed the results of her psychological testing next Monday, though Bonnie already had a pretty clear idea what those results were going to say - too big a problem for Bonnie.

There was a knock on her door. Had she forgotten a lunch time appointment? God, she hoped not. She began frantically searching the files on her desk for some clue as she said, "Come in."

Deacon entered and shut the door.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. "Shouldn't you be at work?"

"I took off early. And I'm here to take you out for a nice lunch. I made us reservations at that new steakhouse."

Bonnie raised an eyebrow. "And did you think to ask _me_ if _I_ wanted to go to lunch at the new steakhouse?"

"I uh..." He looked very confused. She supposed he would. He was only trying to be nice, and here she was thinking of being controlled the way her stepfather had controlled her by telling her what she could and could not eat.

"I like to have a say in how my own day goes, is all," she tried to explain.

"Fine. Sorry to have _disturbed_ your day. Just thought you'd like to spend a couple of hours together before I leave for the ranch. I'll be gone for three days."

When he jerked open the door, she said, "Deacon, wait. Shut the door. Please."

He did. He was biting his bottom lip. She hadn't quite figured out what that meant yet. Sometimes he did it when he was angry, but sometimes he did it when he was merely upset.

"It's just, I'm not hungry." She wiggled an eyebrow. "For _lunch_."

He smiled a little. "Well...what _are_ you hungry for?"

Men were utterly predictable. They were varied creatures in a hundred ways except for one - she'd found she could end _any_ argument by offering sex. As a counselor, she knew that was a sophomoric approach that did nothing but sweep the underlying issues under the rug, but as a _woman_ , she knew it _worked_. And, besides, he looked really good in that black, short-sleeve polo he was wearing. God, he had nice arms. She stood up from behind her desk and pretended to stretch, to show her figure to full effect. "I was thinking I could use a nap. I don't have another client until 2:45."

"A nap?" he asked, his smile growing a little, but with a look of skepticism in his eyes. He had the most gorgeous eyes, she thought. A warm, rich, mocha brown on the outer circle, with a hint of green radiating out around the pupil.

"After some afternoon delight?" she suggested.

He seized the door knob. "I'll pull around my car."

Maybe _she_ wanted to drive. _Let it go, Bonnie,_ she told herself. _He's being nice._ "You do that," she said. "Because I _want_ you to drive me."

He grinned. "Give you the ride of your life."

Bonnie laughed. "I like it when you're not being so serious."

"Oh, darlin', I'm deadly serious."

[*]

Deacon pulled her close against his warm, naked chest. "Good?"

"I give it an 8.75," Bonnie said.

"Hmmm...How can I earn a 9.75?"

"Why don't you try for a 10? Aim big." She kissed him. "When do you have to leave for the ranch?"

"In an hour. Why? Already thinking of round two?"

She yawned. "I'm thinking of a nap. But if I fall asleep, and you have to go, you can just leave me a key. I'll lock up."

He kissed her bare shoulder. "Hmmm...So are we at that stage of the relationship? Where we trade keys?"

"I'll give it back to you when you get back from the ranch."

He slid his hand from the middle of her back to her bare hip. "So we're _not_ at that stage?"

"Deacon, honey, why do you have to label and quantify everything? Just relax and enjoy the journey."

"I don't have to label and quantify _everything._ I want to label _this._ I want to know what _this_ is and where it's going."

"Why?"

"Because I'm a grown man with a teenage son, a career, and a house to maintain! I'm not a high school boy. Sex isn't enough anymore. It hasn't been enough since I fell for Ivy." He shook his head. "Sorry. I didn't mean to mention her in bed."

"Mention her all you want. She was your wife for half your life. But _I'm_ not Ivy. And I'm not going to be your replacement Ivy."

"I know that," he muttered. He sighed and sat up against the headboard.

This, she knew, meant a serious talk. So much for sexy round two. And so much for distractions of sex working on _every_ man. She sat up, too, pulling the sheet up with her and tucking it in around her breasts. You couldn't have a serious discussion with your breasts bouncing around. "Sometimes I feel like it could be anyone in this bed with you."

"Well, Bonnie, there's a reason for that."

She flushed an angry red. "So you admit it?"

"Based on what _you've_ offered me so far? It could. Because _you_ don't _want_ to be anything more to me than a woman in my bed. Do you?"

"I - "

"- It's not _me_ who doesn't want more. You..." He shook his head and waved his hand. " _You_ act all casual. _I_ want something serious, I make it _clear_ that I want something serious, and then you get mad at _me_ for treating _you_ as replaceable? I _know_ who the replaceable one is here. You're just..." He bit his lip again. "You're just counting down the days until you move on, aren't you?"

"Deacon, I..."

" _Aren't_ you?"

"No," she said emphatically, feeling suddenly overwhelmed at the idea of not being with him. "I'm not. But you're so intense. And you're in such a hurry. Maybe just...back off a little!"

"This is me. This is how I've always been. If I want something, I go after it."

"Well, if you want a fish, do you go after it by splashing around in the water and making a lot of noise and scaring it off?"

"So you're a fish now?" he asked. "And I'm a fisherman?"

"Yes. And if you want to catch me, I mean is you want to catch a wild fish like _me_ , and not just go down to the fish market and pick up the first affordable fish you can find, all wrapped up in cellphone and just lying there ready for the taking, then you're going to have to be a _patient_ fisherman."

"That was a very sustained metaphor."

"Well I'm just a little bit poetic," she said.

"Okay, then let me ask you this - do you even _want_ to be caught? Or do you just want to be swimming free in the ocean forever? Is any fisherman ever going to be good enough to catch you?"

"Can we get dressed if we're going to have this conversation?"

Deacon nodded. When they were dressed, he brought her a glass of ice tea in the living room. While he listened silently, she told him about her controlling stepfather, and about leaving home at a young age. She told him of her fear of being forced to live by someone else's rules, of the compromise marriage requires.

"Compromise isn't the same as control, you know," he told her. "You think Ivy always did things _my_ way? Not by a long shot. We'd never have moved here, for one. I wouldn't an Athletic Director. I'd only be a coach, and at a better school. Maybe a college."

"Maybe I'm just screwed up." Bonnie told him about her series of relationships, one by one. "The good men all walked away from me eventually. I was fun for them for awhile, but when it came to settling down, they wanted someone more stable. They broke my heart, every one of them. And when I finally took the plunge to get engaged, he just ended up cheating on me."

"I'm not like that. I'm a man of my word."

"I believe you are. And I guess part of me knew he wasn't. Part of me got into that engagement knowing it would _have_ to end. Knowing I had an escape route. Then I could say, oh, I'm not afraid of commitment, but he cheated, so what's a girl to do? But you...you're a genuinely good man. You're the _best_ man I've ever dated. And I've fallen in love with you. And that terrifies me. It _terrifies_ me." She put her ice tea glass down on the coffee table.

"Why didn't you tell me any of this before?"

"Because I like you and I didn't want you to think I was a screwed up mess and leave me right away. I wanted us to have fun for awhile. I wanted you to be another one of my love stories. My best love story, maybe. I at least wanted the memories."

He stretched an arm across the back of the couch behind her and scooted a little closer. "You can have more than the memories, you know. You can have _me_. I'm not going to try to control you. Good Lord, woman. I _couldn't_ if I _tried_."

She smiled weakly.

"Tell you what. I'll stop making so much damn noise in the water. I'll stop asking where this is going. We'll just have fun for the next few months, you and me."

"Yeah?"

He nodded. "Yeah. And you get to be in charge of the fun. You schedule it all. I'll be..." He held his hands up. "Hands off. No more surprise lunch reservations."

"Sorry. I was so silly about that. That was sweet of you." She kissed his cheek and he lowered his hands."Is there a catch here?" she asked. "I feel like I won this argument too easily."

"Yeah. I get to be in charge in the bedroom."

She laughed. "I'm serious."

"So am I."

"We take turns," she insisted.

"I can compromise on that," he said. "See, compromise isn't so bad."

She laughed and out a hand on his knee. "What's the real catch?"

"You are." He stroked her cheek and leaned in for a kiss. When he pulled away, his lips twitched into that self-confident smirk that she found alternately infuriating and adorable. "And now that you've told me _how_ I have to play the game, I'll win it."

[*]

Tami swung back her arm and served with confidence. The ball volleyed for a long time, but her team scored. In the end, they won the game, closing out the YMCA recreational season with 5 wins and 3 losses.

"I'm really glad Eric told me about this league," Tami told her aunt over ice cream after the game. "I'll be ready for school volleyball next year now."

"Eric's thoughtful. Like his father."

"Eww...don't talk about your relationship with Coach Taylor, please. It's too weird."

"You know, _you're_ the one who brought up my lingerie the other day."

"Eww! Stop!"

When they got home, Tami called her mom and left a message on her answering machine about the game. Shelley picked up halfway through. "Mom's at work."

"I figured."

"I have to go. I have a boy over."

"Wait! What, what boy?"

"Just a boy."

"Don't do anything stupid, Shelley! You're in 8th grade!"

"I'm only letting him to second base." Click.

The sooner Shelley got moved into Aunt Bonnie's house, Tami thought, the better. Mom couldn't handle raising two daughters and making ends meet. Maybe, with both of them at Aunt Bonnie's, Mom could even take a few night classes at the community college.

When she got off the phone, her aunt lay down a letter from Eric on the kitchen desk in front of her. "Mail just came."

Tami eagerly ripped open the letter. As she read it, she felt a nervous excitement to think they would be interacting in person just two days from now, but she also felt a hint of loss to think that their letter exchange would be drawing to an end.


	40. Chapter 40

From the window of his father's pick-up, Eric watched the barren landscape speed by. It was early Tuesday morning, and he felt an unexpectedly heavy sense of loss as the ranch disappeared behind him. He would never see any of those boys again.

"Your grandpa's done well with those criminals," his father said.

Eric's head snapped from the window. "They aren't criminals!"

"Well...they all have convictions."

"So do I. Does that make me a criminal?"

"You had one DUI," his father said. "No, that doesn't make you a criminal. But what was that Dante boy doing service for? Drug dealing, right?"

"There were circumstance," Eric muttered. "Reasons he had to...Look, those people are my _friends_."

His father looked at him with some surprise.

"Hey, you sent me there!"

"Yeah, yeah I did." His father pulled onto the highway and hit the accelerator. He rubbed a hand along his mouth. "I talked to your grandpa. He said you were responsible, reliable, that you got your studies done. So if you want to try to graduate on time, I'm behind you one hundred percent."

"I've already enrolled in summer school. It starts in two weeks."

"Oh. Didn't realize you'd already done that."

"Had to. Deadline. Also called my old boss at the DQ. Grandpa let me use the phone for that. He's giving me my old job back. So I won't be home until after 10 Tuesday through Thursday."

"That's a long day when you leave at 7:30 for summer school. Why don't you just work weekends?"

"I want my weekends free," Eric said.

"For what?"

"To study," he lied, because he didn't want to say, _to see Tami._ According to one of Tami's letters, she'd applied for two summer jobs. One was Monday - Friday, 9 - 5, and the other was 9-6 Friday through Sunday. He really hoped she got the first one, but, even if she didn't, they'd have Friday and Saturday nights when she got off from work. With all those hours, she'd be making more money than him. He hoped that didn't make him seem like less of a catch. Guys like Mo always had money. Mo's dad paid him an outrageous $8.75 an hour to do occasional work in his real estate office in Grapevine. Eric was only going to make $3.95 an hour at the DQ, and that was _after_ getting a big raise from the $3.35 he'd made last year. "I'm going to try to pick up Monday nights, too."

"Heavy load, son." Coach Taylor drummed on the steering wheel for awhile. Silence descended between them.

Eric returned his eyes to the road and thought that all he really had to look forward to in Euless was Tami. This was her last week of school, and they'd be home about a half hour after she got out for the day. How soon after spilling out of the truck could he knock on her door without seeming too eager? A ball of nervousness rolled heavily in the pit of his stomach. What if he couldn't talk as well in person as he could in the letters? What if he said something stupid, or made a dumb move, and she lost interest?

He was too lost in thought to hear his father until the last word. "...you."

"What?" he asked.

"I said I want you to know I'm proud of you. Of the hard work you've done these past few months. Of the discipline you've gained. The self-improvements you've made. I'm proud of you."

"Oh." Eric couldn't remember the last time he'd heard those words from his father. Four years ago, maybe, when his team had won the UIL middle school football state championship. "Okay." His stomach rolled again. Too many emotions for one morning. He reached out and turned on the radio, turned it up, and tuned it until he got to the classic rock station. His father didn't turn it down until a half hour later.

[*]

Tami's bike wasn't on her porch when they began unloading the pick-up. Had she gone somewhere after school? To hang out with friends, maybe. She knew he was coming home today, didn't she? Of course, she didn't know _when_. He hoped if she was hanging out with friends, there weren't any guys in the group.

"You need to go down to the DMV tomorrow to get your license back," his father told him as they brought his stuff to his room. "Your suspension was up yesterday, but there's paperwork you need to do."

The house looked precisely the same as he remembered it, except that there was a new painting on the wall of the living room, something abstract with broad, thick lines of color shooting every which way. "What's that?" asked Eric, pausing in the hallway.

"It's a painting."

"Yeah, but...why?"

"I was at this craft fair with Bonnie, and a friend of hers had a booth, and Bonnie talked me into buying something from her."

"You went to a _craft_ fair?"

"It was torturous," his father admitted.

"Hope you got something out of it beside that painting," Eric quipped, and then desperately wished he hadn't. His father flushed a half-embarrassed, half-angry red, and Eric thought of his mother. He wondered what she would think of Dad's new girlfriend. He wondered what she would think of Eric dating the _niece_ of Dad's new girlfriend. Maybe Dad and Bonnie would break-up soon, though that didn't seem likely, if he was going to _craft fairs_ for her. "Looks like a two-year-old just took a brush and slapped some lines up there," he said.

"It symbolizes the struggle of humankind in the face of adversity."

"It's a bunch of colored lines."

His father looked at the painting. "I was actually thinking of digging through that box of your old school papers that your mother stored in the attic, getting out one of your preschool paintings, and framing it and hanging it right next to it. But I wasn't sure Bonnie would appreciate the joke."

Eric snorted. "Do it! Come on, Dad, do it!"

His father nodded and carried one of his bags onto his room.

[*]

Kimmy would not stop talking to Tami after school today. Her boyfriend had just dumped her, and Tami knew she needed to play sympathetic ear, but she really just wanted to get home and see if Eric was home yet. By the time Kimmy finally shuffled off to her after-school job, the parking lot was almost completely empty. Tami was just getting her bike out of the rack when Mo walked by. "Need a ride?" he asked.

"No, I'm biking."

"I can throw the bike in the back."

"In the back of your Mustang?" Tami asked doubtfully.

"I traded that in on a new pick-up. Figured I should, you know, since I'm going to be working for my dad all summer. Hauling furniture to stage the houses, you know." He made a muscle like Popeye. He kind of looked like Popeye when he did it, too, with the crinkly brow, and Tami laughed. Mo clearly thought he'd made her laugh by being charming instead of by looking ridiculous. "So I take it you want that ride?"

"I don't think your new girlfriend would like it," Tami said as she mounted her bike. "See ya." She gripped the lower handle bars of her ten-speed and pedaled off.

When she got home, she immediately noticed Coach Taylor's pick-up on the carport. Her heart fluttered as she rested her bike against the pole of the porch and wrapped a chain around it. It was a fairly safe neighborhood, but there was no sense leaving a good bike unlocked. Windows might not get busted in around here, but things had a way of disappearing off porches.

She wondered if she should go over and knock, or if she should wait for him to come to her. At the very least, she should go in and freshen up first, she decided. She was sweaty from her bike ride, and her hands were black from having had to stop to put the chain back on. He hair was probably a frizzed mess too, and - oh shit! Here he came, out his kitchen door, around his father's truck, and over the grass between their two houses.


	41. Chapter 41

_**A/N:** _ As an FYI, the Kindle edition of my novel "Off Target" is on sale for just 99 cents March 30 through April 6 over at Amazon. This is an original novel, but the book was inspired by what I imagined Gracie Taylor might be like as a teenager. I hope you'll check it out. You can find it under my penname of Molly Taggart. _Long and Short Romance_ Reviews called it "a feel good story that I highly recommend" and Reader's Favorite said, "It was refreshing to read a young adult book that did not portray a lot of negative attitudes... _Off Target_ is entertaining and cleverly written."

Eric hoped he didn't seem too eager, coming over to see her the second he spied her out the kitchen window, her bike cresting the slight hill and coasting down to her driveway. Of course, she wouldn't know he'd been standing there, watching, waiting, like some kind of creepy stalker. For all she knew, he just happened to be getting something out of the truck, and well, what do you know, there she was.

God she was even prettier than in the picture, prettier than he'd remembered. Maybe she'd gotten prettier the past few weeks somehow, or maybe he'd just started to like her more through all the letter writing. He didn't know. He just knew the way her strawberry blonde hair was all tangled and wild and billowing over her shoulders was sexy as hell. He smiled as he closed the distance between them, the grin growing wider until his foot hit the evil root of a tree.

Eric stumbled forward, tried to catch his balance and play it off, and somehow hit another root and ended up with his face between two clumps of grass, straight in the dirt.

Tami gasped, then laughed, and then suppressed her laugh. Her voice was close by when she asked, "Are you all right?"

He pushed himself up by his arms and legs, and then went half way down again, and then pushed up again. "Just felt like some push ups," he said.

"Get up, you goof!" she told him.

She said it with such fondness that at least half his feeling of humiliation subsided, and three fourths of his nervousness disappeared with it. He popped his feet forward and then shot up in a standing position. "Got to get in shape, you know. Haven't played for my dad in awhile. He's a real tough coach."

"You totally tripped on a root and face planted big time. There's no playing that off."

He put a hand on his hip. "I did, didn't I? I guess that's not very impressive."

"Did it hurt?"

"Just my nose." He hoped it didn't look funny now.

Tami stepped forward. Her fingertips landed on his at his hip, soft and feathery, and she leaned in and kissed his nose. He'd forgotten how soft her lips were.

"Think I might have split my lip, too," he said.

"You think? Doesn't look like it."

"Hurts real bad though."

She smiled, chuckled, and leaned in for a kiss. He didn't think it would happen again, what had happened with that goodbye kiss on her porch, but it did. The kiss decided to become serious, a hot tangled mass of breaths and tongues, until she pulled away, looking slightly surprised at herself.

"I think your lips work just _fine_ ," she said. A car pulled into the driveway, and Tami glanced at it. "My aunt's home. I'm supposed to cook tonight. What are y'all doing?"

"Long drive, you know, so my dad just wants to go out. He wants us to talk shop. Football, that is. I guess he's made a lot of changes since I left, new players in new positions, new plays. He says he actually wants my opinion on all that, since I kind of coached the guys in the ranch league down there a little bit."

"That's cool," she said. "You guys have a great dinner."

Only now did he realize that maybe she'd been gearing up to invite them both over for dinner at her house. He wished he'd said they had no plans.

Tami's aunt waved to him as she shut the car door. "Hey there, Eric! Good to see you home safe!"

"Good evening, ma'am!" He raised a hand to her.

Tami's aunt strutted over to him, the tip of her high heel sinking into the dirt. "Oh, don't you call me _ma'am_." And then she reached out and hugged him, like she was _his_ aunt. Eric didn't like it – he wasn't much into hugs from people he didn't know well – but he tried to act cool. When she stepped back, she said, "You can call me Bonnie."

"Uh…not sure my father would approve."

"Yeah, you're right. He's old fashioned that way."

Eric didn't say anything. He didn't think it was particularly old fashioned to call your elders Mr. and Mrs. and ma'am and sir. He just thought it was normal. His father had a hundred expectations that rankled him – but that wasn't one of them.

"Then you can call me Ms. Murphy."

"Murphy?" Eric asked. "I thought your last name was Hayes?"

"Hayes is my dad's last name," Tami said. "My mom and Shelley and I just kept it, even when he took off. It was easier than changing back to my mom's. I've never had my mom's name. But, who knows, maybe I'll change it to Murphy when I'm eighteen."

 _Maybe she'd change it to Taylor._

Where in the hell had that thought come from? They hadn't even gone on a single real date yet. He was _seventeen._ He wasn't looking to get married! "I gotta go," he said. "Need to unpack and stuff."

"Okay, well, I guess I'll see you Saturday?" Tami asked. "I got the bookstore job. So I'm not working. We could make it a picnic lunch, if you're free the."

"Yeah. Totally free. Just working weekday evenings. Pick you up at eleven? I should have my license back then."

Tami nodded. "And maybe I'll see you around before then?"

"Probably. Thinking about coming to school the last week. Help my dad in the office. But I've got to go to the DMV tomorrow."

"Well tell your father hello for me," Tami's aunt told him. "And remind him he's helping us move my niece and sister next weekend."

Eric nodded. "Yes, ma'am." His eyes fell to his feet and he half jogged back to his house.

"You did _too_ scare him off," Tami insisted. "He's shy." She tasted the pasta sauce, added some more oregano, and stirred it some more.

"I think _you_ scare him off is what _I_ think," her aunt said as she worked the cork out of a bottle of wine. It was weird to see Aunt Bonnie drink. She did it almost every night. She didn't get drunk. She just had one or sometimes two glasses of wine, but it was every night. Tami's mother didn't drink _at all._ She wouldn't even allow the stuff in the house. Tami thought it was because she was super religious, but maybe it was because her father had possessed a drinking problem Tami's mother wanted to confine to the bars. Dad hadn't been around much that last year, even before he left them for good.

"What does _that_ mean?" Tami asked.

"I mean he's very sweet on you, so you make him nervous," Aunt Bonnie explained. "But he'll stop tripping over his feet and tongue after two dates, and you'll miss it when he does." She sipped her wine. "He'll be taking you for granted after five. That's why I like to keep Deacon on his toes."

There was a knock on the kitchen door. Aunt Bonnie let Coach Taylor in. He kissed her quickly on the cheek and set a plastic wrapped something or another on the kitchen counter. "Is that my Mexican poncho?" she asked.

"Well, I bought it in Brownsville. I didn't actually have time to go across the border. But it has all of your favorite colors."

"You don't even know my favorite colors," she told him.

"Green, red, and black."

"Well, ten points for you, mister," she said and poked him with one finger in the chest. She stepped in for a kiss but he stepped back, coughed, and looked over her shoulder at Tami. "You're so reserved," she told him, and kissed him square on the lips anyway.

He pulled back. "Hello, Tami."

"Hey, Coach Taylor," she said. "Have a good trip to the ranch?"

"Mhmhm. Smells good. You ladies have a lovely dinner now." He bent down and whispered something in Aunt Bonnie's ear before leaving.

When the door shut, Aunt Bonnie turned to Tami. "Wasn't that sweet of him?" She put her glass down with a clink and ripped the plastic off the poncho. "All of my favorite colors, too!" She unfolded it and held it up. "Good Lord! How fat does he think I am!" And then she was marching out the kitchen. The door rattled in its frame.

Tami sighed. This was going to be very awkward, dating her aunt's boyfriend's son. But maybe it would be worth the price of awkwardness. She touched her lips, where the taste of the spaghetti sauce mingled with the lingering taste of Eric.


	42. Chapter 42

After Eric went to the DMV to get his driver's license back, he removed the cover from his car, which had been parked unused along the curb for the past six months. He'd saved for three years to buy this baby, starting before he even had his driver's license. Mo made fun of his blue, two-door 1965 Ford Falcon, with its dented-in passenger side door, rust stains, and duck-taped, torn interior, but not everyone had a father who was willing to spring for a nice car or pick-up. Eric's dad could easily have afforded to buy him a car. He just refused to do it. To be fair, though, Dad did pay for his insurance, which had to be pretty high now that he had a DUI to his name.

Eric took his time washing and waxing the car. He sprayed it with air freshner. He put fresh duct tape on the tears in the front passenger seat, after painting the tape to match the interior. He was going to take Tami to the lake in this thing, after all. She was used to being driven in Mo's fancy Mustang.

When he was done and came inside, the phone was ringing. It was his boss down at the DQ. Apparently, he'd had an employee abruptly quit on him, and now Eric could have as many hours as he wanted. He agreed to work full-time during the two weeks until he started summer school. That meant he wouldn't be hanging out down at the school this final week, where he could accidentally run into Tami in the halls, but he'd also save up some money for their dates this summer.

The next day, he was behind the register when Tami and her friend Kimberley walked in. Kimberley was kind of cute, a blonde with brown eyes, but she was nothing next to Tami. The girls each ordered a milkshake. There were glances and whispers and giggles between the two, and he wondered if Tami was telling Kimberley how much she liked him or if they were laughing at his stupid uniform hat.

"Looking forward to Saturday," Tami told him when he handed her the strawberry shake, and he managed to edge out a "Me too."

Kimberley snatched up her chocolate shake and went to find a table, and Tami followed her. Eric's eyes followed Tami.

The next customer had to clear his throat - twice - before Eric's attention snapped back.

Kids he knew from school wandered in and out for the rest of the afternoon. It being the last week of school, with finals over, no one had anything to do but hang out. Some of his old teammates paused by the counter to shoot the breeze and welcome him home, and he felt a sense of relief to find himself falling back, at least partially, into the old comradery.

"Is your dad starting you?" Tommy Miller, one of the linebackers, asked. "Next season?"

"I don't know. I guess he could be starting Mo."

"Nah. Mo's gonna be gone."

"What?" Eric asked. The bell jangled and he had to serve two customers before he could resume the conversation. "My dad didn't mention that."

"I don't think your dad knows. Mo hasn't told him yet. But word is he's going to live with his dad in Grapevine. His mom got that new boyfriend, and he and Mo don't get along. Also, Grapevine's had a good team the past couple of years." Tommy chuckled. "You look real sorry to see him go."

Eric shrugged.

"Bet it's a relief, huh?" He glanced over his shoulder to where Tami was still lingering, now with just a cup of water and a paper back book. Kimberley had already left with some basketball player Eric vaguely recognized. "You two won't have to fight over Tami all next year."

"What are you talking about?" Eric asked.

"Well, she used to be Mo's girl. But word around school is...you two are a thing now."

How had word traveled that fast? And _were_ they a thing? He _wanted_ to be a _thing_. But did Tami? Was Tami _saying_ they were a thing? "Who's been saying that?"

Tommy shrugged. "Everyone." He patted the counter top and said. "See you at summer training. I'm gonna be at the beach house until then."

"Beach house?" Tommy never struck him as a rich guy.

"Well, my aunt's house in Galveston."

When the crowd thinned out, and it was just Tami, Eric made his way over and set a small cup of soft serve chocolate on the table. "Free sample," he said.

"Are you trying to fatten me up? I just had a milkshake."

He sat down across from her. "I'm _trying_ to be nice."

She smiled and pushed the cup back to him. "You eat it. You're the one who needs to tackle people."

He dipped his spoon into the ice cream and felt a little annoyed and embarrassed that she hadn't accepted his gift. "So how's the last week of school going?"

"It's a boring waste of time. They should just let us stop going t this point. My math teacher actually gave us a pop quiz today."

"Didn't they already have to turn in the grades?"

"Yep. So no one cared, of course."

He tried to think of what to say next. It was easier writing letters. You could take your time to think. _She has a book, idiot,_ he thought. _Ask her about that._ "What are you reading?" She picked up the book, which she'd set down when he sat down, and showed him the cover. Stephen King. "Scary?"

"It's a western fantasy, actually," she said.

"By Stephen King?"

"It just came out last year. It's really good." Silence descended for a moment. He was supposed to say something else, but what. "When do you get off work?" she asked.

"In fifteen minutes," he answered. "Want a ride home?" He hoped that hadn't come off as too eager.

"I have my bike. Will it fit in your car?"

Eric flushed a little. No way in hell it would fit in his tiny car. "Uh...probably not."

She shrugged. "That's okay. I could use the exercise."

"Why? You look great! You're totally hot already." Oh, that sounded shallow. "I mean..."

She ducked her head and smiled.

He smiled back.

[*]

Coach Taylor heard the racking of the slide of the handgun, dropped the window screen he was holding, and stepped back. "The hell, Bonnie? Put that thing away!"

She slipped on the safety and lowered the handgun. "Well I didn't know it was you! I just got home from work and saw some strange man in my backyard trying to break in through my window, so I got my gun out of the glove compartment."

"I'm installing the screen _you_ asked me to install."

"Yeah. Three weeks ago."

"I've been busy, darling." He glanced at her gun. "Why do you carry a gun in your glove compartment?"

"Because I had a crazy client who assaulted me once."

"I don't think that's legal," he cautioned her.

"Assault?"

"Carrying a gun in your glove compartment."

"It's legal if it's inaccessible and unloaded. Which it was until I saw the movement back here and loaded up."

"You know how to use that thing?"

"Of course I now how to use it! What do you think I am? A New York city girl?" She shook her head. "Come on in when you're done and have some lemonade."

He did. She made it too sweet, but he didn't tell her that. "This woman who threatened you. How big a risk is she?"

"She threw a stapler at me during one of our sessions. Said I was trying to steal her husband. I never even _met_ her husband. Then she showed up the next day with a steak knife and threatened me. I called the cops. I have a restraining order against her."

"Why did you never mention this before?"

Bonnie shrugged. "Sometimes I deal with crazy people in my line of work. Something like this has happened everywhere I've worked. I just didn't think to tell you. Do you tell me about every loony parent you have to deal with?"

"I've never been threatened with a _knife._ Although, a few years ago, one player's dad till tell me he'd get me fired if I didn't start his son."

Bonnie rinsed out his glass and set it in the sink. "So what happened?"

"I didn't start his son and he got me fired."

Her mouth dropped open a little. "Seriously? What did you do?"

"I got another job and we moved. Again."

"You've moved a lot for your career. I hope you're not moving anytime soon. I kind of like you around."

"Yeah?" He raised an eyebrow, snaked an arm around her waist, and drew her close. "I'm staying at least until Eric's done with high school." He kissed her and backed her against one of the counters. He nibbled her ear and asked, "When's Tami get home?"

She balled his shirt into her hands and returned his kiss, breaking apart long enough to say, "She was supposed to be home an hour ago."

"You worried?"

"No. She's probably just hanging out with friends. I'll worry if she misses dinner." She leaned in to resume the kiss and wiggled herself against him.

"You're _trying_ to work me up," he said.

She smirked. "I don't think I have to try very hard."

"Quickie?" he asked.

"Well, well, well. You're not usually so spontaneous."

"You're not usually rubbing yourself against my crotch."

"What can I say? I do like a sweaty, hardworking man who's just finished doing household repairs for me."

He grinned, and she grabbed his hand and tugged him toward her bedroom.


	43. Chapter 43

Tami wanted to see if she could beat Eric back to their neighborhood. Sure, he was in a car, and she was on her bike, but she'd left a few minutes before him, and she could pedal around traffic. In the end, she beat him by a foot. While she coasted into her driveway, he pulled his battered two-door car to a stop alongside the curb. The engine was making weird noises, and she wondered if the thing might die on them on their way to Lake Grapevine on Saturday. He switched it off.

She was locking up her bike to the post of the carport when he sauntered over.

"You're fast," he said.

"When I want to be," she answered.

Eric looked straight down at his tennis shoes, and Tami wondered if her words about being _fast_ had made him think of sex, and he was hiding his reaction.

"But I don't usually _want_ to be," she emphasized. "Usually I like to take my time. You can get hurt going too fast."

Eric crouched down on the carport. He tied a loose shoelace. He hadn't been avoiding her gaze. He hadn't been thinking of sex at all. He'd just been noticing he needed to tie his shoe. She felt like an idiot.

He stood back up. "I like to coast myself," he said. "Work real hard on the hills, you know, really just _pound it,_ and then when I crest just..." He swept his hand in a downward motion. "Feels good."

Tami was sure her cheeks had just turned a deadly pink. She had to change this subject. "You want some ice tea?" she blurted out.

"Uh...Sure."

She must have sounded pretty weird when she said that, as if there was some emergency that required him to drink ice tea _right now_.

"Just...it's hot," she said to justify her anxious tone.

"Uh...Yeah. Real hot."

She nodded toward the kitchen door. "Well...Come on in."

As she was pouring him a glass in the kitchen, Tami announced, loudly, "Hey, Aunt Bonnie! I'm home. Eric's here." She didn't want her aunt being surprised by a boy in the kitchen and saying something embarrassing. There was no reply from the bowels of the house. "Guess she's in the shower," Tami said.

"Yeah, I can hear the water running." Eric drank half his glass of ice tea in a few gulps.

Tami heard the front door, which was on the other side of the kitchen, at the end of a tiny foyer, creak open. She froze with her ice tea halfway to her lips. Eric heard it, too. If her aunt was already home and in the shower, who was opening the door?

"I think there's an intruder," she whispered over her glass.

Eric slid a steak knife from the wood block on the counter and said. "Stay here. I'll check it out."

"Be careful," she whispered.

Eric came back a moment later to report that there was no one in the foyer or hall. Tami nodded out the kitchen window, where they could both see Coach Taylor heading back to the Taylor house.

"Oh," Eric said. And then he repeated, with a hint of disgust, " _Oh_. Oh God. He was trying to _sneak_ out. It's like he's doing the walk of shame."

"I think there's a little too much pep in his step for it to be considered a walk of shame," Tami said.

"Eww."

"Hey, it's weird for me, too. Trust me."

They both winced.

"Think maybe I better go before your aunt gets out of the shower," Eric said. He put the knife back in the kitchen block. "Good thing I didn't stab my dad."

"That would _not_ have gone over well," Tami agreed.

"So 11 AM on Saturday, right?" he asked. "And I'm driving?"

"Unless you want to ride on the back of my ten speed."

He smiled. "Could be cozy."

"But where would we put the picnic basket?" she asked.

"I'll pack that, by the way."

"So what should I bring?"

"Besides yourself?" Eric asked.

She nodded.

"Well, a towel. A volleyball if you maybe want to play. They have sand courts. You could show off your moves." He grinned, and she could only guess he was thinking of her bouncing around in a bikini.

"I'm wearing a _one piece_ ," she warned him.

"Uh...okay. Me too."

Tami laughed. "I hope so!"

He ducked his head and smiled.

The shower stopped.

"Uh...so...see you then." Eric made a beeline for the kitchen door.

[*]

When Eric got back into his house, the shower was running. He sat down at the kitchen table and opened the math textbook he'd picked up for summer school. School didn't start for over a week, but he wanted to get a head start, because with work and Tami and school, he wasn't going to have much study time. He had to spread it out.

His father walked into the kitchen in khaki pants and a polo shirt, his hair damp. "Hey," he said. "Just got back from a run, so I had to hop in the shower. When did you get home?"

"Just now," Eric said, and looked fiercely at his book.

"I'm thinking chicken drumsticks for dinner."

"I kind of ate at the DQ. I get free food when I'm working."

"You had ice cream for dinner?" his father asked. The man's tone annoyed Eric. He said it like he was talking to an imbecile.

Eric looked up from his book and sighed. "No. Not _just_ ice cream. They sell burgers and fries now, too."

"Oh. So much healthier."

Eric rolled his eyes.

His father yanked open the refrigerator. "In that case, I'll just have some beer and cheese and pretzels for dinner."

Eric snorted, surprised his father wasn't continuing to lecture him about poor nutrition. "Fancy."

"I aim to impress." His dad pulled out a bottle, popped off the cap, and turned and sipped. He looked Eric over. "Hitting the books already? That's good to see, son. You're serious."

"Of course I'm serious!" Eric shot back testily.

"I _know_. That's _why_ I said it. Cut your old man some slack, why don't you?" He shook his head and walked out of the kitchen.

"Sorry!" Eric yelled after him, and then he went back to reading his textbook.


	44. Chapter 44

Bonnie opened the door. "Well, come on in," she told Eric. "If you're taking my niece on a date, you have to come in and meet the guardian."

"We've met," Eric said.

"Get in here." She motioned him inside and led him to the kitchen, where she handed him a glass of water. "Have a seat."

Eric sat hesitantly at the kitchen table. "Does Tammy know I'm here?"

"She's getting ready. I told her a girl should always keep a boy waiting."

"Why?"

Bonnie chuckled.

Eric shifted awkwardly in his seat and glanced toward the open doorway that led to the hall. He was nervous and excited about this date, and having to sit here wasn't helping.

"So where are you taking her?" Tami's aunt asked.

"The lake. Grapevine."

"Ohhh…Picnic lunch?"

Eric nodded.

"Do you have a cute little picnic basket?"

"Uh…no." Should he have gotten a basket? That would have been more romantic, wouldn't it have? "Just a cooler."

"Would you like a bottle of wine to take in that cooler?"

Eric blinked. "Uh, no ma'am. I don't drink anymore."

"I was _joking_."

"Oh." _Shit._ Had he just implied he used to drink? Well, he supposed she already knew that. She probably knew about teh DUI. She probably knew every awful thing about him. His dad had probably told her.

"You think I'm going to give a seventeen-year-old boy who's taking my niece on a date a bottle of wine to liquor her up with?"

"No. No. No, ma'am."

Bonnie chuckled again. "So what are your long-term plans, Eric?"

"I…I just, want to take her on a date."

"I meant for college, career, that sort of thing. Not for my niece."

"Oh. Um…"

Tami entered the kitchen. She was wearing a sheer, cover-up dress over a one-piece swimsuit, with black flip flops that revealed her freshly painted toes, not that he cared about the toes. He wasn't looking at the toes. "Hey," he croaked.

"God, Aunt Bonnie, are you grilling my date? Leave him be."

"Eric and I were just having a nice chat."

Tami plucked up a canvas bag from the counter top which had a towel, a hat, sunglasses and some other items in it. "Let's get out of here," she told him.

[*]

Tami thought it was sweet that Eric took her bag for her and put it in his trunk, which had a cooler and a blanket and a backpack in it – and then opened the door for her. When she sat down, her cover-up got stuck on a piece of duct tape, and she had to pry it off.

"Sorry," he said. "The upholstery's a little torn up. I had to…you know."

"Make do."

"Yeah."

"It's fine," she insisted.

"I know Mo's car doesn't have tears and it's all leather." He started the engine.

"I'm not in Mo's car."

"Yeah. I know." He smiled at her.

She smiled back. "Mind if I roll down the window?" He had sprayed some kind of air freshner that was giving her a headache and making her want to cough. It had kind of overwhelming, putrid coconut scent.

"Sure."

She cranked down the hand crank and breathed in the fresh air as the warm breeze began to rip through.

"Want some music?" he asked, and then without waiting for her to answer, pushed in a cassette tape. Tammy Wynnette began singing, "Stand By Your Man."

Tami laughed. "Is this because I told you in that letter that she's my favorite singer?"

Eric grinned.

"Where did you even find this tape?"

"Salvation Army," he said. "Twenty-five cents."

"Good to know I'm a cheap date."

His grin faded.

"I'm joking. It was nice of you to pick something for me." She started to sing along.

"Don't quit your day job," he told her, and she shoved him playfully against his shoulder, which caused him to swerve in his lane a little bit. They were on the highway now. "Careful," he warned.

It took them about twenty minutes to drive to the lake, during which they talked about the music they liked and Eric talked a little about football.

When they got to the lakeshore, Eric laid out the blanket and weighted it down with a couple of rocks to keep it from blowing away. The breeze was picking up. The shore was not overly crowded, and Tami was glad there was no one she recognized. It was mostly families with young kids today.

"Swim first or eat first?" he asked.

"I need to get hot before I can swim," she said.

"You're already hot."

She snorted. "Terrible line."

"It's not a line. It's just the truth."

"Why don't we lie out, get warmed up, swim, then eat?"

"Sounds good," he agreed. She could feel his eyes on her as she pulled off her cover-up and then bent over to shove it in her canvass bag. Maybe she spent a little longer bent over than she needed too. She told herself she wasn't doing it intentionally.

He looked away immediately when she stood up and pretended he'd been interested in something else all along. "Check out those canoes," he said. "Maybe we can rent one later."

"That would be fun," she agreed as she put on a pair of sunglasses and sat down on the blanket. The sunglasses weren't just for the sun. This way she could watch him as he took off his t-shirt without him knowing how intently she was examining the sinews of his chest.

He tossed the shirt on top of his backpack and then sat down next to her. "I should of thought of that," he said.

"Sunglasses?"

"Yeah." He opened his backpack. "But I thought of this." He pulled out a bottle of suntan lotion. "Want me to put some on you? On your back?"

She laughed, low and playfully. "You thought of that, huh?"

"What?" He tried to suppress his smile. "I just don't want you to get burned."

She turned with her back toward him and drew her legs up to her chest. "Then put it on."

He took his sweet time rubbing the lotion into her arms and neck and back. Tami ended up resting her head on her knees and enjoying the sensual massage. It made her tingle. It was times like these she was glad she wasn't a boy.

When he was done, Tami returned the favor of rubbing the lotion into his skin and enjoyed the feel of his rippling muscles beneath her fingertips.

After that, they finished putting the lotion on themselves and then lay down side by side on the blanket. Eric put his T-shirt over his eyes and took her hand in his. He didn't say anything for five minutes, and eventually she poked him and he snorted.

"Did you fall asleep?" she asked.

"No."

"Liar."

"It's the sun," he said. "It's evil."

"I'm ready to swim. Race you!" She was up on her feet while he was still pulling himself into a sitting position, but still he beat her to the water.

When his foot hit the lapping edge he turned, waited for her to near, and then scooped her up, carried her in until the water was above his waist, and then tossed her straight down. She squealed, found her footing, and repaid the evil deed with a huge splash to his face, which sent some kids swimming in the opposite direction.

"Truce! Truce!" he cried after the third wave of water hit his face.

"Fine," she agreed and laughed when he shook his hair out like a wet dog.

They swam out to the deepest part of the lake, where they couldn't quite touch, and where there were no young children, right at the edge of the buoys that marked off the end of the swimming area. There he kissed her while they tread water. When it got too tiring, they swam backwards a little ways, just far enough until they could both touch, and continued their make out session. Eric dug his hands into her hair and their tongues tangled as their bodies pressed together, until Tami could feel his erection pressing through their swimsuits against her navel. She shifted away.

"Sorry," he breathed as her lips tore from his.

"It's okay. It's natural. But uh…" she glanced toward the shore. "I think people are staring at us."

"Just those two creepy kids." He nodded at a pair of twin girls who stood near the shore, the water up to their waists, just staring in their direction.

She laughed. "They are creepy, aren't they? They look like they just stepped out of The Shining."

Eric swam all the way out to the buoys again. She followed. They tread water and faced each other. "Want to eat?" she asked.

"Better…wait a bit."

"Oh. Yeah. How long does that uh…take to...uh...?"

"Won't be long, as long as you don't kiss me again. The water's cold this far out."

She wondered how soon he expected them to start having sex and thought she ought to be clear about something. "I never had sex with Mo."

"Uh. Okay. Yeah. I know that."

"I mean, we didn't go all the way."

"A'ight." He stopped water for a moment, and his face dipped halfway beneath the water before he straightened himself and began treading again. "You know, I really don't need the details. I don't _want_ them."

"I don't want to give them to you. I'm just reminding you because..." She sighed.

"Because why?"

"I don't know. Never mind." She swam to where she could stand, and he followed.

He put a hand on her hip and ducked his head to catch her eyes. "What's up?"

She raised her head to look directly at him. "I just don't want you to think I'm easy, because I'm not. You know I made a mistake once, but that doesn't mean - "

"- I ain't looking for easy," he said. "One thing I learned on that ranch is that the easy road never leads to the best cattle."

"So now I'm cattle?"

"No!"

She laughed. "It's okay. I'm teasing. I'm not offended. I think I get your point. I just...I don't know what your expectations are here."

"I don't have any expectations except that I'm going to have fun spending time with you."

She drew a little closer and kissed him on the cheek.

"Tami, I really like you. Okay? So just…relax. Whatever happens happens. And whatever doesn't doesn't. And it's all good."

She smiled, a little fondly, a little doubtfully. "You say that _now_."

"I'll say it next week, too. And the next." He jerked his head back toward the shore. "Hungry?"

She nodded.

"Race you." He took off in a freestyle stroke toward shore, but he hit the shallow end of the lake sooner than he expected and end up slamming his face in the dirt, so she beat him to the blanket. When he arrived, he got a water bottle out of the cooler, rinsed his mouth out, and walked over to the edge of the shoreline to spit in the grass.

"Sexy," she said when he came back and grabbed a towel.

"Sorry," he lay the towel out and sat on it. "Didn't know it was so shallow there. I can still taste the dirt."

"Then maybe a coke will clear it out." She pulled a can of root beer out of the cooler, which he cracked open. "What all do you have in here?" She pulled out a two-liter, plastic bottle with no label, full of ice and brown liquid. "What's this?"

"Sweet tea with lemon. I made it for us."

"My favorite drink!"

"I know. You told me. It was one of the questions I asked you in one of my letters." He nodded at the cooler. "There's cups."

She pulled out the cups and set them down. "You also asked me my favorite sandwich."

He smiled.

She turned and dug through the cooler and pulled out the two sandwhiches he'd made. "Is one of these ham and cheese?"

"They both are. At least you have simple tastes, and I didn't have to make a meatball sub or something."

"You're so sweet." Tami was hungrier than she'd realized and she chowed down on the food. He'd also brought some watermelon, which was deliciously cool on her tongue, and some chips - bbq - not her favorite - but she had a few. Afterwards, they layout for a while longer, their fingers laced together, and Eric dozed off again. "You fall asleep way too easily," she told him.

"Only in the sun. Or in English class."

They swam some more, dried off, packed up, and got their shoes on before heading over to the dock to rent a canoe. Tami enjoyed watching the muscles of Eric's arms flex while he rowed. They just floated in the middle of the lake for awhile, paddles across the boat, talking. The words came easily now, with less nervousness than before, more like their letters. They shared hopes and dreams and fears, funny past memories, and laughed and smiled together. They didn't realize how long they'd been talking until they heard the boat guard whistling them back in. They made haste to the dock and were told they'd have to pay extra for going past their rental time.

Eric rummaged through his wallet and came up with the money, but it was clear it had wiped him out. Tami made a note to think of lots of cheap date ideas for the summer. Eric's father might make decent money, but apparently Eric was expected to fend for himself when it came to cars and entertainment, and he wasn't going to be able to work much this summer with summer school. She wished she'd brought cash with her, but she hadn't thought of it.

When they got home, it was evening. Through the open windows of his car, the smell of brisket wafted. Coach Taylor must be grilling out back. Eric turned off the car. "Want to have dinner with us? I bet your aunt's over there." Tami's house looked dark.

"Sure," she said. "A double date, huh?"

"Ew. Don't. It's too weird."

"Tell me about it," she agreed. "But I guess we better get used to it. I mean, I really don't think this thing is just a fling."

"Oh, good," said Eric, half turning in the front seat to face her. "I'm so glad you feel that way. I do too!"

Tami blinked in confusion. She knew Eric had gotten used to the idea of his dad dating, but she didn't expect him to be excited about it.

"Oh," he said. "You were talking about my dad and your aunt."

"What did you _think_ I was talking about?"

He turned forward in his seat again. His hand gripped the steering wheel.

"Oh!" she said. "You were...were you talking about _us_?"

"I...uh...maybe?"

"Maybe?" she asked. "Is that a maybe yes, or a maybe no?"

"It's uh...look. I want you to be my girlfriend. Like, not my girlfriend, but my _girlfriend._ "

"What's the difference between a girlfriend and a _girlfriend_?"

"I don't want you dating anyone else, and I don't want to date anyone else. I want us...I want to see where this goes."

"Are you asking me to go steady on the first date?"

"I...guess?"

Tami shrugged. "Well then I _guess_ my answer is maybe yes."

He grinned. "Awesome." He leaned in and they kissed. This kiss, like all the others, decided to become pretty intense. At least, it did until they were both suddenly soaked with water.

Tami covered her hair and screamed.

Eric yanked away from her and shouted, "What the hell?"

They both looked out the open passenger window where Coach Taylor stood a few feet away, holding the garden hose in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other. Bonnie was beside him with a glass of white wine in her left hand, laughing.

"Y'all just looked like you needed hosing down," Coach Taylor said.

"Jesus, Dad! How old are you?"

Bonnie stopped laughing. "He's learning to be young at heart, Eric! Come on! Don't discourage him."

Eric wiped the water from his face. "My car's gonna smell all moldy now!"

"No it's not," his father told him, dropping the hose into their lawn. "Just leave the windows open a couple of hours and let it air out. You should anyway, after that god awful car spray you emptied in there."

At this, Tami laughed. Eric glowered, and she smiled apologetically.

"Why don't you two come around back and join us for dinner?" Aunt Bonnie said. "It's almost ready. And your father makes the fourth best brisket in Texas, Eric."

"Fourth?" Coach Taylor asked, turning to follow her back around the house. "You said it was the third."

Tami watched them walking away and then turned back to Eric. "Maybe we should just go out for some burgers."

"Yeah. Um...I don't get paid until - "

"- My treat. You paid for the canoe rental _and_ made the lunch _and_ you're paying for gas."

He started the car. "Burgers it is then."

"Going out for dinner!" Tami shouted out the window at the retreating couple, who paused long enough to turn.

The car peeled away from the curb and down the street with a roar.

"Oh, wait," Tami told him when he came to a stop at the stop sign at the end of their street. "All my cash is at home."

Eric shook his head and made a U-turn in the intersection. By the time they parked and got out of the car, and caught scent of that brisket again, they decided maybe they would risk eating with their folks after all. "I'll save that money for our next date," Tami told him. But as they rounded the back of the house, they were sure to make a lot of noise, so that they wouldn't be interrupting anything.


	45. Chapter 45

Five days passed, and Tami didn't get to see Eric quite as much as she would like. She'd started her new summer job, and he was working as many hours as he could get at the DQ, since he knew he would have to drop down to only a few a week once summer school started. He said he was saving up money for dates, and she reminded him that she'd be happy to pay her way.

Still, they managed to run into each other between their houses three times that week, where they talked and stole a few kisses. Eric told her the guys kept coming by the DQ to hassle him, and he felt like maybe he was falling back into things, that he might actually not be "totally out of the place on the team. I still feel kind of different, but they're accepting me back into the fold, you know."

"It's probably easier with Mo getting ready to move. Have you gotten much flack for dating me?"

"A little," Eric admitted. "From the guys who hung with him most. He's not talking to me at all."

"Well, at least he's not trying to start fights with you."

"He's still telling other people I _stole_ you. That you broke up with him because of me."

"Well...I _may_ have."

Eric raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

"Not _for_ you. Not then. But _because_ of you, maybe. I mean, you made me feel like I _could_." She shrugged. "You made me feel more sure of myself, and if I hadn't been more self-confident, I might have just stuck with him just to have a boyfriend."

"You helped me realize I don't need a bunch of girlfriends, too." He smiled. "Just one." He bent his head and kissed her. He had her half pinned against the magnolia tree that was two-thirds of the way between their two houses. It had bloomed, unusually late this season, and the smell was almost sickeningly sweet, but Tami liked the beautiful canopy it covered them with. He pulled away.

"Is all the time you're going to spend with me going to keep you from bonding with the team?" Tami asked.

"Nah. In fact, me and some of the guys are going out tonight."

"No girls?"

"No girls," he promised. "We're just going to plink some cans with B.B. guns off the fence on Tommy's farm. Maybe try out his new compound bow. Drink a few beers. Not _me._ I'm not drinking anymore."

"Well don't get a B.B. in your ass! I kind of like it." Oh god. Had she really said that? How stupid.

Now he was chuckling to himself. "I'll make sure I keep my ass B.B.-free just for you."

"Seriously, be careful. Especially if you're still hanging out with the guy who helped get you in trouble the first time around."

"I'm not. I'm kind of clicking with different guys on the team now. Tommy's a good guy. And so are the guys he hangs with. Like Andy Thomas."

"That skinny black guy?"

"He does need to beef up," Eric admitted. "But he also plays basketball in the winter. And he's a great punt returner."

"I like him. He's smart. He was in my English class. Too bad about his face though." Andy had some kind of abnormality, such that half his face was a shade lighter than the other - it looked like he had a huge, light blotch running all over his cheek, half his forehead, and a third of his chin.

"Yeah. It makes it hard for him to get a girlfriend. Maybe you can fix him up with your friend Kimberley."

"No promises, but I'll try. She does like smart guys, and he's nice." She put a hand on his hip. "Wait. I thought Tommy was at the _beach house_."

"Not yet. And it turns out that house isn't anywhere near the beach. It's like three miles away. And it's a townhouse. But he said if we can get away for a weekend this summer, we can come down and stay there. We could bike to the beach from there."

"That sounds like so much fun. But I doubt my aunt is going to let me spend a weekend away with you."

"His aunt would be there. You'd have your own room. I'd room with him."

"She's still not going to let me. She's pretty liberal about some things, but...a whole weekend with my hot boyfriend? I don't think so."

"You can at least ask."

"And we both have to work."

"Yeah. There is that. But... _one_ weekend." He held up a single finger. "Maybe right before summer training."

They stopped talking because Coach Taylor had just slammed the door of his truck in the carport. "That's never going to work," he was saying. "You can't run that play like that."

"Who's he talking to?" Tami asked.

"Himself. He does it all the time."

"I've never seen him do it in school."

"Well," Eric said, "he tries not to look lit a nutbar when he's not at home."

She laughed. Coach Taylor caught sight of them and waved. "Good evening, Ms. Hayes! Eric, that yard does not appear to be the least bit mowed!"

"I just got back from work. I'm doing it! Can't you see the lawn mower!"

"I can see it sitting there, not running, with no bag on it, and the tank most likely empty."

Eric sighed. "Gotta go do my chores."

"Me too. The kitchen floor is not the _least bit_ mopped." She smirked.

They kissed and parted ways.

[*]

Deacon Taylor looked in the rearview mirror to see his son's worn sedan following behind his pick-up. Eric was laughing as he drove and Tami was smiling, and they appeared to be fighting playfully over the radio station. They were following him and Bonnie to Tami's mother house so that they could help the woman move to a cheaper apartment nearer her new job, and so that they could pack up Bonnie's niece Shelley and take her back to Euless.

"I wonder if Eric realizes that this is a step forward in his relationship," Deacon mused.

"How so?" Bonnie asked.

"Well, he's _meeting the mother_."

"Well, you're _meeting the sister_. Does that mean _we're_ taking a step forward in our relationship."

His lip twitched slightly. "I certainly hope so."

"Oh, yeah, I forgot the stereotypical roles are reversed here." She put a hand on the back of his neck to toy with the thick hair that curled up at the edge. The curl meant he needed a haircut, and normally he'd have gotten one by now, but Bonnie seemed to love playing with it, and he loved the way her warm fingertips felt on his neck and in his hair. "But we're having _fun_ , right? That's what we agreed? No rushing into anything?"

"You better watch out, Bonnie. I may get used to having all fun and no responsibility."

She snorted. "You could never be anything but responsible."

"You didn't know me when I was a teenager."

"Well," she said with a smile and a little kiss on his cheek. "You're not a teenager anymore." She slid her hand from his hair and rested it on his thigh. She began to move it up. "But I can make you feel like one."

"You're going to make me have an accident is what you're going to do."

She patted his thigh and took her hand away. "See? No risk of you ever becoming irresponsible."

He glanced in the rear view mirror again. "I've never seen him like this with a girl."

"Like what?"

"Talking so damn much."

"Well, I think they got pretty comfortable with each other through their letters. And now, as far as I can tell, they are _officially_ girlfriend and boyfriend."

Coach Taylor adjusted his cap. "What happens if one of them breaks the other one's heart? How does that affect us?"

"We don't _let_ it affect _us_ ," Bonnie said. "But I'll let it affect me and you'll let it affect you, because they're our kids, and we'll hurt for them."

Deacon glanced down at her hands in her lap. "I didn't say you had to move your hand away."

[*]

Eric gave up keeping the dial tuned to sports radio. He endured the country music creeping out of the stereo now. "How long has it been since you've seen your Mom?"

"I went home on Easter."

"Oh, yeah. Think she'll like me?"

"No."

Eric turned his head slowly to her. "Why? I'm a charming guy."

"Watch the road, Charmer." When he returned his attention to the road, she explained, "My mom isn't going to like any guy I date because she doesn't think I should date until I'm out of college."

" _What?_ "

"Yeah. Insanity. Just because she had a crap marriage doesn't mean every guy should be avoided. Just to warn you, she's nothing like my aunt. I wasn't allowed to date when I lived with her, or go to parties, which is kind of why I ended up sneaking out. Well, there were other reasons. Like my dad bailing on us and me just wanting some guy to approve of me."

"I approve of you."

"I don't _need_ your approval," she said. "That's the point. It was all so stupid of me. I approve of _myself_ now. Anyway, my mom was super strict, but she had to work so much after my dad left that she couldn't enforce her own rules. Then she felt powerless and lashed out at me. She got pretty critical. I think she had to tear me down to make herself feel better, and that just made me more rebellious. Shelley avoided it all by playing the innocent little sister, but, I have to tell you, she's been up to more no good younger than I ever was. My Mom just doesn't know about any of it. I'm glad she's coming to live with us, because my aunt will find her out and nip anything stupid in the bud, without being a total bitch about it."

"So...are things going to be awkward between you and your mom today?"

"Yes. But not as awkward as they were when I moved to Euless. I don't hate her anymore like I used to. Talking to my aunt about it, reading those books on negligence...I realized my mom is just _human,_ and she's been through a lot of pain. And also a lot of financial struggle and stress. And she just…she couldn't _handle_ it all. She's controlling about little things because all of the big things are out of control in her life. And…I forgive her. Still, just because you forgive someone doesn't mean you have to remain in a close relationship with them. And I won't, because, you know, she's kind of toxic."

"Toxic?" Eric was imagining a nuclear waste sight.

"Toxic. That's what this book I was reading calls it. _Toxic relationships_ …."

Eric's father's pick-up swerved slightly and steadied itself. "Did he doze off?"

"I don't know. My aunt's laughing up a storm up there."

"So what's your little sister like?"

"Growing up way too fast and right on the verge of about to get into too much trouble. So it's good she's moving back with us. Shelley's a more bouncy type of personality than me. And lately she's been acting kind of flighty and boy crazy."

"So she takes more after your aunt?" Eric asked.

"My aunt is not _flightly_ and boy crazy!"

"She's kind of weird." Eric saw Tami's expression and said, "But I like her! I do. She's just…she's not your typical grown-up woman is all."

"She _is_ kind of weird," Tami agreed. "But at least she didn't hose us down like your dad!"

"You know she encouraged him to do that!"

"Probably," Tami admitted. Then she laughed. "Your expression was kind of hilarious when it happened." She unbuckled and slid across the bench seat and cozied up against him. "And you're cute when you're irritated."

"Yeah?" he asked, slipping an arm around her shoulder and driving with one hand. "You like that?"

She settled her head on his shoulder. "I like _you_."

Eric slammed on his breaks when his father's pick-up slammed on its. He had to hold Tami back to keep her from hitting the dash. "The hell?" he muttered. "You better buckle in again. My dad can't drive."

Tami did. The pick-up made a U-turn across the double yellow line and came to a stop beside them. Eric cranked down his window. "I got distracted and missed the turn," his dad told him.

Eric sighed and followed his father back down the road.


	46. Chapter 46

"A gentleman takes his hat off in the house," Ms. Hayes said.

Tami felt a flush of embarrassment at her mother's curt tone, especially when Eric warily caught her eyes.

"Sorry, ma'am," Coach Taylor said. He took off his coach's cap and ran his hand through his now unruly hair.

"Deborah," Bonnie said, as though she were talking sternly to a child. "Deacon is taking your boxes out into the bright sunlight. The hat helps to shade him from that. He can't be taking it off and putting it on every time he comes in and out of the door, especially not with _your things_ in _his_ hands."

"I don't really need it," Coach Taylor said. "I can leave it in the truck."

"Put the hat back on, Deacon," Bonnie demanded, holding her sister's eyes.

Coach Taylor, looking very uncomfortable, slid his hat back on. "Well, Debbie," he said, "where should we start?"

"My name is Deborah. Debbie is a _child's_ name."

"Well, _Debroah_ ," Coach Taylor was clearly suppressing his annoyance. "Where should we start?"

[*]

Tami's little sister Shelley talked non-stop.

 _Non-stop._

Eric wanted to curl into a ball and cover himself with protective ear shields. The whole time he was loading stuff into the pick-up, she trailed after him, chattering away. And she talked about the most vapid stuff. And Tami's mom kept watching him the whole time he helped, with a suspicious look in her eyes. After all he was doing for Tami here, he sure hoped she seriously made out with him later.

Eric went back for another box, passing the _Sold_ sign out front of the tiny house, and then stepping up the cracked cement stairs. By the time he got that box wedged inside, the bed of the pick-up was full, as was the back seat, so he began packing the trunk of Ms. Hayes's sedan instead.

She came running over to him, the long braid of her light, reddish-brown hair swaying. "Careful with those, Eric, those are kitchen dishes."

"Yes, ma'am."

She put a hand on her hip. "You know, I don't approve of Tami dating. She's too young, and should be concentrating on her studies. But in my sister's house, she lives by my sister's rules."

What the hell was he supposed to say to that? He just said, "Yes, ma'am."

He turned from the trunk to head back to the house for another box but found her blocking his way. Ms. Hayes looked him up and down. "My husband was very helpful in the beginning, too. Charming, even. They fool you that way."

"I'm not trying to fool anyway, ma'am. I - "

"- Mom!" Tami yelled from where she was bringing out a box. "Aunt Bonnie needs you!"

Eric met Tami halfway across the weedy lawn and grabbed the box. Tami looked at him sympathetically after he put it in the trunk. "Sorry," she said. "Was she giving you the third degree?"

"Not exactly."

"Please don't think I'm going to turn out anything like my mom."

He shut the trunk, turned, and put a hand on her waist. "Listen, hey, I'm sorry, I didn't know how much you've had to put up with. You're right. My dad's _not_ that bad. And you're pretty fantastic, being so great even with…" He jerked his head toward Tami's mom's house - "All that to deal with."

She smiled. He leaned in to kiss her, but she pulled back. "Not around my mom, okay?"

He nodded and went back to work.

[*]

Once they got Tami's mother settled in her new apartment - after two trips to the house to get her stuff and a third to pack up Shelley's for the drive to Euless - the sun was setting. Eric's father invited all the Hayes ladies out to a late dinner. When they were seated at a table at Applebee's, he ordered a beer, which drew a seething look from Tami's mother, though she didn't say anything.

Tami's aunt then made a deliberate point of ordering a glass of wine.

Shelley ordered a virgin strawberry daiquiri, and Ms. Hayes said, "You can get water, Shelley. Mr. Taylor is paying the bill. There's no reason for you to inflate it unnecessarily."

"I really don't mind at all, Deborah."

She looked across the table at him. "There's no reason for you to rub anyone's nose in your wealth either."

"Deb!" Bonnie scolded.

"Excuse me," Eric's father said. "I need to use the restroom."

Eric could tell from the stern line in his jaw that his father was going to walk off his anger before he said something he regretted. He'd seen his father do that on the field many times, and at home.

"Seriously, Deb?" Bonnie asked. "He's helping you to move, he's taking you out to dinner, and you have to be rude to him?"

"You didn't need to bring him at all, Bonnie, did you now? You could have borrowed his truck. Isn't it bad enough that my husband left me and you're taking _both_ of my daughter's from me? And now you want to rub my nose in your handsome boyfriend's fat wallet, too!"

"Oh Good Lord not this again," Shelley groaned. She sighed and flung herself back against her chair.

Eric tried to sink deep into his own.

Bonnie reached across the table and put a hand over her sister's hand. "Deborah, honey, did you go see that doctor I asked you to go see?"

"He wanted $50 a session."

"I'll pay for it, honey."

Ms. Hayes rolled her eyes. "Of course you will, won't you? Because you're just rolling in money from those sex novels you wrote."

Eric flushed red.

"They're _sensual romance_ novels," Bonnie said. "And I am not rolling in money. But I can help. I _want_ to help. Why don't you let people help you!"

"I'm sorry," Ms. Hayes said. "I'm just..." She sighed. "I'm worked up over seeing my last baby go." She smiled weakly at Shelley, who smiled back, a sort of fake, I-can't-wait-to-get-out-of-here smile. "I'll behave for the rest of dinner, I promise. I'll be nice to your... _beau_."

They'd all ordered by the time Eric's father finally made it back to the table. Ms. Hayes apologized to him and he nodded. The meal was passed in relative silence, with some strained conversation, and then they took Tami's mother back to her apartment. Her daughters hugged her. Her sister pulled her aside and talked to her for awhile.

Then Tami and Shelley piled into Eric's car and he followed his father's truck ten miles to a hotel. They weren't going to drive through the night all the way back to Euless.

"Oh thank God I'm getting out of that hell hole!" Shelley said from the cramped backseat of Eric's two door sedan. "Why didn't y'all take me sooner!"

"I thought you and Mom got along _sort of_ okay," Tami said.

"Yeah, when you were home to take the brunt of it! But now that you've been gone…" Shelley shook her head. "I'm just glad Aunt Bonnie talked her into letting me move for the better school."

"It wasn't easy, I hear," Tami said. "But maybe now Mom will have time to get the help she needs. Maybe she'll chill out in a year or two. She wasn't _always_ this bad."

"Wasn't she?"

"Not when we were little, remember?" Tami asked.

"I guess. Hey, so what's Bowie High like? Lots of cute guys?"

"I don't know any rising-9th graders, Shell."

Eric turned onto the highway behind his father.

"Well, I can totally go for 10th or 11th graders."

"Bad idea," Tami told her. "Very bad idea."

"So, Aunt Bonnie's getting horizontal with Eric's dad, is she?"

Eric's hands tightened on the steering wheel.

"They're _dating_ ," Tami said.

"He's _hot_. For an old man. Your boyfriend's kind of cute too. But his car sucks."

"I'm sitting right here," Eric said.

"It smells funny. My God. How much air freshener did you spray in here?"

"Shelley, shush it!" Tami ordered.

"Do you guys get horizontal in this backseat? I hope I'm not sitting on anything gross."

"Good Lord, Shelley!" Tami cried. "Shut up already!"

"You and I are going to have so much fun in Euless!" Shelley exclaimed. "The Hayes sisters, shaking up the neighborhood!"

Eric turned his stunned eyes slowly to Tami. He hadn't considered that Shelley might be hanging out with them this summer.

"You and I will have fun, Shelley," Tami agreed. "We'll hang out sometimes, just the _two of us_."

Eric swallowed with relief.

"But I'm also going to be busy doing my own thing a lot." With this, Tami squeezed Eric's knee.

[*]

At the hotel, Eric and his father checked into a room together while Tami and her aunt and sister checked into the one next door.

Eric's father turned down the comforter of one of the two twin beds in the room, which smelled of smoke. He sat down and yanked off his boots. "That woman was a piece of work."

"Tell me about it," Eric agreed, throwing himself onto his bed. It squeaked and creaked.

"Turn down that comforter first," his father warned him. "They don't wash those as often as the sheets."

"Ewww…" Eric got out of bed and turned it down before sitting on the bed again. He took his shoes off and sat with his back to the headboard. "Hey, a remote control!" They didn't have one at home. He still had to get up to change the channels. He clicked on the TV and found the news, hoping for some sports reporting. The sound was all the way down.

"And just think, she could be your mother-in-law one day."

Eric's thumb froze just above the volume button on the remote.

"Sorry," his dad said. "I didn't mean to imply you might end up with Tami permanently. That's unlikely to happen."

Eric lowered the remote to the bed. "Why so unlikely?"

His father gave him a peculiar look. "Even if you make it through the school year next year, then you'll both go off to different colleges and find other people."

Eric chewed on his bottom lip.

"I hope you two can continue to be friends when it's all over, though, because I'm quite serious about her aunt. I expect…well, I expect this to end up being long-term."

"Long-term….how?" Eric asked.

"For as long as she'll have me."

"Oh."

"Which is kind of up in the air." His father scratched his head. He rolled out of bed. "I need a shower."

Eric stared vacantly at the television as the water came on in the bathroom and thought about what his father had said, about him and Tami not lasting beyond high school. College was so far from now. It was over a year away. So he didn't know why the thought of losing Tami _then_ bothered him so much _now_.

Gradually, he realized it was because he loved her. Not like he'd loved his first steady girlfriend, either. No. He was hopelessly, terribly, head-over-heels in love with his pen pal. It didn't even matter that Tami had a piece-of-work for a mother, or that she wanted to take things super slow. He was a goner. Already.

"Shit," he muttered.

There was a rapping at the sliding glass door that led out to the balcony. He startled out of bed and peered around the curtain. Tami was standing there. He unlocked the door and slid it open. "How'd you get here?"

She nodded to the left. "Just climbed over from mine."

The balconies _were_ close together, but they were three stories up. "Be careful!"

"Shhh! My aunt thinks I'm studying the stars on my balcony."

Eric stepped out and shut the door behind himself. "My dad's in the shower. He takes epic showers. Fifteen minutes at least."

"That's actually not that long."

He smiled. He felt that strange nervousness again he'd thought had gone away with her. God how he wanted to kiss her. So he did.

They made out there, on the balcony, beneath the twinkling Texas stars, Tami's back pressed against the sliding glass door, tongues tangled, hands roving backs and arms, ears nibbled, necks suckled, breath growing ragged, Eric growing hard, until another sliding glass door opened.

"Look at y'all go!" Shelley exclaimed, and Eric backed off of Tami. He pulled his shirt tail down as far at would go before turning to glare at Tami's little sister.

"Shh!" Tami scolded her, and then she very carefully climbed back over to her own balcony.

"See you in the morning," Eric said.

"Yeah." Tami disappeared inside.


	47. Chapter 47

In those glorious months of June and July, in that summer of young love, Tami felt a bit like an oblivious lobster coming to a slow boil in a pot, and not just because of the oppressive Texas heat. Her feelings for Eric crept up on her until they almost slew her.

It was magical, falling slowly and helplessly in love, meeting between their houses for stolen kisses, splashing each other like careless children in the pool, sharing ice cream off of each others spoons, and making out in the cramped backseat of his sedan in a dark corner of the parking lot of the big Methodist church...coming close, _so close,_ to saying _all the way_ to him _._

Tonight, she gasped as Eric fondled her breast beneath her shit with his left hand and whimpered when he slipped his right inside her pants. Their lips locked, her hips rocked, and her knees tried to retain their precarious grip on the back seat. She moaned at his tantalizing touch until she was shuddering against him, and then she bent her head against his neck.

Eric's hand slipped slowly out of her waistband "Good?"

"Mhmhm," she managed. It had never felt this good when Mo touched her. She had no idea what the difference was - if Eric was better at it, or if was just the fact that she wanted him so much more.

"My turn?" he asked hopefully.

She took another moment to recover her breath and then leaned against the back of the front passenger seat so that she could have enough space to unbuckle his belt and unbutton and unzip his khaki shorts. She slid her hand inside his boxers.

"Oh sweet Jesus, Tami," he murmured when she took him in hand. This was now the sixth time they'd traded hand jobs, but he had yet to stop saying those words at the start, as if it was still a surprise to him just how good it felt.

Later, he buttoned up and pulled the shirttail of his short sleeve polo down as far as it would go, to cover the embarrassing wet spot. They slid out of the cramped back seat and into the front, and when Eric started the car and the clock clicked on, he muttered, "Shit. It's past your curfew."

Aunt Bonnie gave her a reasonably late curfew, but for every ten minutes she was _late,_ she lost a day of "socializing." And she was already thirty minutes late.

Eric threw the car into drive, slammed into reverse, and was soon tearing through town.

"Slow down!" Tami warned him. "Get a reckless driving ticket and your dad's not going to let you date for months!"

He eased to a stop at a stop sign and then resumed at a more normal pace, eventually coming to an abrupt stop in front of her house. He kissed her one last time, passionately.

She pulled away. "Do you want me to lose another day?"

"It was totally worth it."

She opened the car door and headed toward the house. "Tami!" he called after her through the open window.

She turned back. "What?"

"I..." He opened his mouth slightly and seemed like he wanted to say something serious, but he just said. "I had a really good time with you tonight. Not just...the end part. All of it."

She smiled. "Me, too." And then she ran to the kitchen door.

[*]

Eric drove on the few feet to his own house and pulled in the driveway just behind his father's truck in the carport. He clicked off the engine, threw his head back against the seat, and grinned. He loved it when a day ended the way it had tonight.

Tami had _said_ she wanted to take it "super slow" when they started dating, so he'd moved inch by frustrating inch. But then _she'd_ been the one to unclasp her bra and slide his hand under her shirt that second week in June, and _she'd_ been the one to shove his hand down her pants that first day in July. Of course, the next day she'd said they needed to take a step _backward_ and _slow it down_. But then five days later, she'd shoved his hand right down her pants again.

Eric was confused, to say the least. He thought maybe Tami didn't know what she wanted, or her body wanted one thing and her mind wanted another. All he knew was that he wanted her. _Badly._ All the damn time. In any way he could get her. That hand job tonight had been _fantastic,_ better even than the blow job he'd gotten from that UNT college girl at Mo's big pre-season party last year. He wasn't sure how that was possible. A mere hand job couldn't possibly be better than a _blow job_ , could it? But it was. Way better.

Maybe that's what being in love did to you. Maybe it made every touch more powerful. Eric had wanted to tell Tami he loved her tonight, but he'd chickened out.

He opened the car door, popped the trunk, and drew out some clean underwear and shorts from his gym bag. He changed in the car before going inside. The last thing he needed was his father to see that wet spot.

[*]

Aunt Bonnie and Shelley were playing cards on the living room table when Tami came in.

"You're laaaaate!" Shelley intoned. "Thirty minutes."

Did she _have_ to point that out? Maybe their aunt hadn't noticed.

"That's three days you've lost Tami," Aunt Bonnie said. "Straight to work and then straight home."

"That's not fair!" Tami threw herself down in the armchair.

"Frankly, I think I give you a lot of freedom. My rules are quite liberal. They aren't that hard to follow. You need to plan ahead."

"What if we had gotten in a car crash?"

"Well, you need to allow time for car crashes in your planning," her aunt told her.

"What if were in the hospital in comas?"

"Well, then you _still_ wouldn't be seeing each other, would you?" Aunt Bonnie asked.

"At least you're _allowed_ to have a boyfriend," Shelley said. "Apparently _I_ don't get to. I didn't know living here was going to be just as oppressive as living with Mom."

"I am _not_ as oppressive as your mother," Aunt Bonnie insisted. "I said you can go to official school dances with a boy. And you can hang out in groups. But you're only fourteen, Shelley, honey. You can wait another year to have a boyfriend. You need to get settled into school here and make friends before you worry about that."

"I don't understand why I get less freedom than Tami."

" _One,_ because you're thee years younger. _Two,_ because you have to earn my trust by following the rules first, like Tami has." She raised an eyebrow at Tami. "For the _most_ part. Show your maturity, Shelley, and you'll get more freedom. It's simple, really."

Shelley slapped down a card. "Jin Rummy! In your face!"

"Shelley, honey," Aunt Bonnie said, "that's a spade, not a club. That's not a set."

"Oh, oops. Let's re-deal." Shelley scooped up all the cards and began shuffling them.

Tami leaned forward in her chair and smiled sweetly at her aunt. "But Eric _really_ wanted to take me to see Risky Business Saturday at 7:30."

"Tom Cruise is so totally hot," Shelley observed as she laid out the cards.

"Well, I'm sorry, Tami, but Eric will have to take you another time."

"But it might not be in theaters next week!" Tami cried.

"Oh, it _will_ be," Shelley said. "I hear Tom Cruise is in his underwear. That's going to draw moviegoers for _weeks._ "

"I'm sorry, Tami," Aunt Bonnie said, sounding like she wasn't the least bit sorry at all. "Just let this be a lesson to you and plan better to be home on time next time. Think of it the way Coach Taylor thinks of his practices - on time is late. And that way, you won't be late."

"How would you like it if you couldn't see _him_ for three days?" Tami asked.

"I would survive. Besides, I don't go _out_ with Coach Taylor _nearly_ as often as you go out with Eric. A little break might do you two good, anyway. Absence makes the heart grow fonder."

"We're not really _going out_ , we're just h _anging_ out. Outside the house."

Eric's schedule had changed so that he now worked at the DQ from 10 to 6 on Saturdays and 6 until close on Mondays and Tuesdays. They hung out every night Wednesday through Saturday and sometimes spent Sunday afternoons together. Tami suspected Eric didn't sleep much, between her and summer school and studying and working out and work. But they couldn't seem to get enough of each other. They were both saving money, so often they'd just go to the community pool, where they had memberships, or they would sit on the hood of his car where it was parked in a shady spot and share a soda and talk for a couple of hours. They might walk around the pond two miles from their houses, or play volleyball barefoot in the sand court at the park, or sit on the swings in the playground and kiss. Sometimes they hung out at her best friend Kimmy's house and played Atari, and other times they hung out at his best friend Andy's house and played board games. That Andy kid always won. And then, sooner or later...before the night was done...she and Eric would usually end up finding a private spot to make out.

"Tami, we agreed when you moved in here that we'd each hold up our end of the bargain. So you can either choose to complain about the consequences of - "

"- Okay, okay!" Tami interrupted her aunt. "I get it. I _respect_ your _boundaries_."

[*]

Eric picked up the ringing kitchen phone when he walked into the door of his house. Who was calling this late at night? "Taylor residence."

"Hey, Eric man, how's it hanging?"

"Uh...Mo?"

Why the hell was Mo calling him? They'd hung out before, but they'd never been really good friends, and the guy was still pissed Eric was dating his ex-girlfriend.

"Just calling everyone to let them know I got a _CD player_!" Mo shouted the last two words.

"Uh...okay." Damn. Those things had only recently come out, and they cost over $800! Eric wouldn't make that much this entire summer. How the hell had Mo scored one of those?

"A Sony CDP-101. What are you still playing your music on? A _record player_?"

"Uh, some of it, yeah. Some on cassette on my Walkman."

"Your _Walkman_? Why, can't you listen to it on stereo? Or does your old man still have an _8-track_?"

"No, he just has a radio and a record player."

"A _record_ player," Mo said disdainfully. "You know, those are going to completely vanish. Cassette players will stick around a lot longer, though, because you can record CDs on them. That's right. I can make _my_ girlfriend mixed tapes. You can't do that for Tami, can you?"

Had Mo really called him this late at night just to trash talk? That seemed a bit much, even for Mo. "Which one?"

"Which one what?"

" _Which_ girlfriend? The one _here_ , or the one she doesn't know about in Grapevine?"

"I knew you'd told Tami!"

"I didn't tell Tami shit. Are you drunk?" He thought Mo must be, given the weird call and the fact that he was talking even faster than usual. His s's were slurring a bit, too.

"Had a few," Mo admitted. "Because I'm still _allowed_ to drink."

"I was never _allowed_ to drink. I just did it."

"Yeah, well, my parents let me do whatever I want. And buy me CD players and shit. I guess that's one of the advantages of having divorced parents. They feel guilty. My mom thinks that CD player is going to make me stay instead of moving in with my dad. But no way in hell I'm staying with that asshole new boyfriend of hers. Besides, they'll make me quarterback at Grapevine High. And then I'll kick your scrawny ass all over the field in the first game of the season."

"Yeah, you try that Mo." Eric wasn't particularly mad. In fact, he sort of felt bad for the guy. Mo was already seriously embarrassing himself with this call, and then it just got worse.

"I'd have made the best damn mixed tape ever for Tami," he said, his voice growing maudlin, "if you hadn't stolen her from me!"

"I didn't _steal_ her from you, man. We didn't start dating until _after_ she broke up with you."

"But you were calling her up behind my back, writing her letters, telling her I was cheating on her. She wouldn't have broken up with me if she didn't _know_ that."

"Maybe she wouldn't have broken up with you if you hadn't _done_ that. And I never told her, man. She figured it out herself."

"I loved her, and you took her from me!"

Shit, was Mo crying now? It sounded like he might be crying. How drunk was he?

"Mo, man, I got to hang up now before you really humiliate yourself. Good luck in Grapevine."

"Don't need luck! 'Cause I'm gonna kick your ass all over the field next season!"

"Bye." Eric put down the receiver and turned off the ringer, in case Mo called back. He poured himself a glass of water and went to the living room. His father was kneeling before the VCR and muttering curses. Eric set his glass of water down on the end table and asked, "What are you doing?"

"This goddamn tape won't fit in this goddamn machine!"

His father had never sworn in front of him when his mother was alive. Most of the time he still didn't, except when he was really frustrated.

"Hold on, hold on," Eric said indulgently. He squatted down beside his father. "Let me try." He took the tape from his father's hand and looked it over. "That's because this is a Beta tape, Dad. And we have a VHS player."

"So a VHS won't play Beta tapes?"

"No. You need a Betamax player."

"Well why in the hell did you ask for a VHS for Christmas, then?"

"Uh...Because that's what I wanted?" His friend Tommy's dad owned a video store and was predicting that in the future, VHS would beat out Beta. Tommy said his dad knew his stuff, too.

"So are you saying I can't watch any of my game tape on this thing?"

"Is _that_ why you got it for me for Christmas?" It had been an unexpectedly generous gift on his father's part. "So _you_ could watch game tape?"

"Damnit!" His father snatched the tape out of Eric's hand, stood up, and wedged his hand in his hair. "The recordings are going to be made on camcorder next season. It won't be on reels anymore. It's going to be on this." He shook the tape.

Eric stood. "You didn't buy a VHS player for the _school_ , did you?"

"I haven't put in an equipment order yet. I'm waiting for the budget to be approved."

"Well, fine, then just order a Betamax for school and watch it at school."

"I wanted to be able to watch game tape at home too."

"You can still watch the reels at home." They were probably the only house in all of Euless to have a projector stored in the corner of their living room and a draw down screen in the opposite corner. "I don't get why you spend so much time watching game tape anyway. I mean, you go through it over and over again. What can you see the fifth time you didn't see the fourth?"

"You'd understand if you were a coach." His father sighed, sat down on the couch, and slapped the beta tape on the end table.

Eric sat down on the cushion farthest from him, by his water glass. "You can always buy a Betamax for home, too."

"That VCR cost $500! That's almost as much as I make in a week!"

"Wait. You make _more_ than $500 _a week_? Why are you always acting like we're poor, then?"

"That's not nearly as much money as you think it is. I have a mortgage, you know." He looked at the VCR. "Maybe we can sell that one and I can buy a Betamax."

"No!" Eric exclaimed. "That's mine! It was my Christmas present! And I already have five VHS tapes to go with it. Two I bought by myself with my _own_ money!" The other three had come from his aunt and uncle as gifts.

"I just had to get a new battery for my truck. I can't _afford_ a Betamax!"

Maybe if his dad didn't take Bonnie out to dinner once a week he _could,_ but Eric didn't say that.

"How'd your date with Tami go?" his dad asked. That's how it was with his dad. He always changed the subject when he decided he needed to cool off.

"Good."

"You treating her right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Being respectful of her wishes?"

"Yes, sir."

"Using rubbers?"

"Uh...we're...uh..."

"Don't want any teenage girls knocked up around here."

"Yeah." Eric flushed red. "Me neither."

"Bonnie would be _pissed off_ at me."

Did his dad really think they were having sex?

His father stood up and looked at his watch. "Hitting the hay so I can get up early and go over to Coach Kinney's house. He has a Betamax I think."

"A'ight. Nite."

"So that means we're running plays at 5:45 AM tomorrow instead of 6:20 AM."

His father made him run plays early in the morning, while it was still sticky warm instead of oppressively hot. Afterwards, Eric showered quickly and went to summer school. "Could we maybe just skip a day?" Eric asked.

"Do you think Danny White skips a day?"

"Why can't we at least do it at the normal time and _then_ you go over to Coach Kinney's house?"

"Because I have a brunch date with Bonnie tomorrow, at 10:30, which is between clients for her. So I need to be done by then."

"Is Coach Kinney even going to be _awake_ at 7 AM?"

"He'll be awake. He's seventy-two. He gets up at 5 every morning."

Eric sighed. "A'ight. Guess I'm hitting the hay too, then."

But Eric didn't. He sat down at the desk in his room and studied for an hour and a half before he switched off the light.


	48. Chapter 48

Eric groaned when his father opened his blinds and the sunlight streamed in. He closed his eyes tighter and was just drifting back to sleep when the shrill blow of the whistle screamed inside his head.

"Jesus, Dad!" he muttered as he jerked into a sitting position.

"Don't take the Lord's name in vain, son." Coach Taylor's whistle fell back around his neck. He already had his cap on. "Time to rise and shine and run those plays."

Eric rubbed his eyes.

His father glanced at the open book on Eric's desk and the notecards, filled to the margins with Eric's scrawl, sprawled all around. "What are your grades so far?"

"89 Math. 85 English. 93 Science."

"Not bad. Three Bs."

" _One_ B," Eric corrected him. "One B+, and one A-."

"And how many hours are you working at that DQ?"

"16."

"A'ight. Tell you what. Go back to bed. Get another hour sleep. We can skip one day of running plays. But go to bed earlier tonight."

"Yes, sir." Eric threw himself back down on his pillow and was out in a second, but because he'd been relying on his father to wake him up to run plays, he'd never set an alarm. When he woke up again, it was ten minutes before school. He threw on his clothes, shoveled his books into his backpack, and tore out the door.

[*]

Bonnie poured half a creamer into her coffee and stirred. "You look very handsome today." She'd love to slide that red tie half off his neck and have sex with him while he wore that dark suit. Well, while he wore _most_ of it. Certain parts would have to come off. Or at least down.

"I have a meeting with the school board at 12:30," Deacon said. "I'm trying to get equitable funding for all of the sports programs in the district."

"I take it Bowie High gets _less_ than some other school at the moment?"

He smiled. "Why? You think I wouldn't be fighting for equity otherwise?"

"I do not think you would be, no."

He set his coffee cup down. "Well you're right. How has Shelley been settling in this summer?"

Bonnie was taking a bite of her biscuits and gravy when he asked, so she finished chewing and swallowing before answering, "She's driving me crazy, honestly. I'm trying to do the right thing by these girls, but I don't know how my sister handled it. At least I can afford to keep my hours to just under 40 a week and flex them and be home for them when I need to."

"Shelley's a lot like you, you know."

Bonnie lay down her fork with a clank on the edge of her plate. "You did _not_ just say that."

"I just mean you both say whatever's on your mind."

Bonnie took a sip of coffee and then set down her cup. "You have no idea how many of my thoughts I filter."

He looked a little horrified, and she laughed.

Just then, a semi-attractive brunette came over to their table and said, "Oh, hellooo, Coach Taylor. You look so nice in that suit!" Then she started chattering to him about school matters. He responded politely. She complimented him on some point he had brought up in a meeting with the principal, saying, "We really needed someone to speak up for the teachers and staff! I mean, this new principal is just being absurd!"

Finally, Bonnie stuck out her hand, "Hi. I'm Bonnie Hayes."

"Oh, Sarah Williams," the woman said and shook. "Coach Taylor and I work together at Bowie High."

"So I gather."

The woman said her goodbyes and took off.

"For instance," Bonnie told him, "I'm not saying what I'm thinking about _that_ little encounter just now." She waved a hand over her lips. "Filter in place."

"And what _are_ you thinking?" Deacon asked.

"I'm thinking that woman doesn't have a wedding ring, she's _clearly_ attracted to you, and she would just love to climb in your bed. And I'm thinking I should _not_ have had to introduce myself to her. _You_ should have introduced me. As your _girlfriend_."

"Mhmm." He smiled as he sipped his coffee. "I admire your filter."

Bonnie cut her biscuit. "I'm also thinking she's probably going to masturbate to fantasies of you tonight."

Deacon choked on his coffee. He set it down and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Shh!" He looked around to make sure they weren't being overheard.

She smiled. "So am I."

He seemed to forget his concern about being overheard and smiled too. "Well, why do that when you can have the real thing? I can call for the check right now." He held up a finger.

She leaned across the table, grabbed his hand, and pulled it down before sitting back. "I don't have time for that. And you have a big meeting with the school board."

"After work, then?"

"Tami's grounded. Which means she'll be home. Which means Eric will probably _also_ be home. Which means we won't have anywhere to play."

"We could…uh…go for a ride in my truck."

"Well aren't you becoming more adventurous?" She wiggled an eyebrow. "But I think I'm going to have to say no to cramped vehicular sex. Besides, I think I'm spoiling you again. You can wait a couple of days. Like I told Tami, you've got to keep a man on his toes."

"Ah, well, you certainly do that."

The waitress stopped by and laid the check on their table.

[*]

Tami obeyed her aunt's boundaries, more or less. But that evening she waited until Eric was checking the mail to check her mail, and somehow it took them thirty minutes to get the mail out of the mailbox. And maybe they tripped onto each other and kissed a little.

The next day, she did the same thing. "I aced my math test!" he told her. "98%!"

"That's great. Maybe it's good I'm grounded. Maybe I'm holding you back."

"Nah. I got an 89 on the last one. You're worth ten percent."

"That's eight percent, math genius."

He smiled. "It's just, your'e so pretty I can't subtract around you."

"That was a horrible line."

"Then why are you smiling?"

"Because you're cute," she said, inching a little closer.

"No chance your aunt will relent and let you go to the movies with me tonight?"

"No, just go with your friends."

"You sure? I can wait and go with you."

"No, you should go. Have fun," Tami insisted.

"Actually, if I don't get to go with you, I should probably stay home and study some more. My finals are next Thursday. Think your aunt will let you help me study?"

Tami chuckled. "Nice try, but no. She's not stupid. She knows no actual studying would get done."

"Well, next Friday, Tommy's invited us both to come down to Galveston and stay with him for the weekend at his aunt's _beach house_. I'll drive him back home to Euless Sunday afternoon, since summer training starts Monday. Think your aunt will let you come?"

"I seriously doubt it. A weekend? Two overnights with my boyfriend in another town?"

"I'll be staying in Tommy's room," he insisted. "You'll be staying in his girlfriend's room. Her name's Jessica. She lives in San Antonio but is staying with them for the summer. And his aunt will be there to supervise."

Tami toyed with the red flag on her mailbox and peered at him. " _Your_ dad is letting you go?"

"He says I've been real responsible lately, he trusts me, and I deserve the break."

"Really?" Tami asked skeptically.

"Yeah. I was kind of surprised too. But it's not the first time I've gone away for a weekend with friends."

"Yeah, but…with your _girlfriend_? He's letting you? He's not afraid we're going to…. _you know_."

"I think he already thinks we are."

"Why?" Tami asked with alarm.

Eric shrugged. "Because we've been dating so much and spending so much time together. And most guys on his team, if they'd been dating a girl this seriously, they'd probably have done it by now."

"Is that a complaint?"

"No!" he exclaimed. "No. It's not."

"We've only really been dating for two months!"

"I know," he said hastily. "I _know_."

"All those letters didn't count as dates."

"Yeah," he said. "I...I didn't say they did. I'm not complaining. At all."

"Good," she said quietly. "You know why I never did it with Mo?"

He shook his head.

"Because…" She shifted uncomfortably on her feet. "You know about that mistake I made I wish I'd never made, and I just…I don't know. I wanted to be more careful about not making mistakes. And my aunt told me that just because I have sex with _one_ guy doesn't mean I have to have sex with the _next_ guy."

"That's totally true. And just because you _don't_ have sex with one guy doesn't mean you _can't_ have sex with the next guy."

"Don't you dare pressure me, Eric Taylor!"

Eric held up a hand. "I wasn't. I'm not trying to. I just…I want you to know…I'm _open_. To the _possibility_."

She snorted. "Trust me. I'm well aware of that."

"Sorry. Didn't meant to be that obvious." He smiled dopishly. "Listen, Tami, I love spending time with you. No matter what we're doing. I…I just like _being_ with you."

He was so sincere when he said that, Tami forgot she was irritated. She leaned over the mailboxes and kissed him. He pulled away and glanced over her shoulder. "Your aunt's home."

They stepped apart and both grabbed the mail out of their boxes. As Tami was turning to walk toward her house, he hissed, "Don't forget to ask about the beach!"


	49. Chapter 49

"Thank God for cheer camp," Deacon said and kissed Bonnie's bare shoulder before lightly feathering his fingertips down her naked backside.

"And long lunch breaks," Bonnie agreed, snuggling up close under the cool, light sheet that covered their lightly perspiring bodies. Eric was at summer school, Tami was work, and Bonnie had found Shelley a cheer camp to go to for the rest of August. Shelley planned to try out for the cheerleading squad in ninth grade, and Bonnie had no doubt she would make the cut. But a little practice wouldn't hurt, and Bonnie didn't entirely trust the girl home alone while she was working. "I really, really needed this today. I had a very stressful client this morning."

"Well I could relax you again if you like," he said with a smirk.

"Yeah?" she asked in a low voice while caressing his cheek. "You want to relax me?"

"Mhmmmm…"

"Good." She rolled on her stomach. "The shoulders need the most work."

Deacon sighed and went to work rubbing her back, but the massage soon included more than her back, and, in the end, he got what he wanted anyway.

Not long after that, she said, "We need to talk." He stiffened beneath her. "I'm not breaking up with you," she clarified.

"I _do_ need to be back to work eventually. They don't check up on me in the summer, but there is a meeting this afternoon. At three."

"Well, I don't plan for us to solve _all_ the problems of the universe. Just one."

"And what's that?" he asked, dragging himself into a sitting position against the light brown oak headboard of Bonnie's bed, which was carved with images of wagon trails. She'd opted for the "rustic country" look to her décor. She'd always wanted to be a cowgirl, until she realized it would require a lot of hard physical work and getting very dirty. Bonnie sat up and turned to face him, letting the sheet fall to her waist, comfortable in her nakedness. But when his eyes fell to her breasts, she pointed to her own eyes and said, "Up here."

He dragged his eyes slowly to her face. "Put on a shirt if you want to talk."

Bonnie got out of bed, threw on her robe, and sat back down again. "Did you tell Eric he could go to the beach this weekend with Tami?"

"I told him he could go to the beach and stay with his friend. And _if_ Tami wanted to go, and _if_ it was acceptable to you, he could go with her."

"Aren't you worried they'll…you know."

"What?" he asked, really seeming not to understand what she was suggesting.

" _Do it_?"

"I assume they already are," he said.

"What? Why? Did he tell you that?"

"No, he didn't _tell_ me that. But she's his girlfriend. His _steady_ girlfriend. And they go out _all_ the time. He had sex with his first steady girlfriend so I assume – "

"You _assume_? You didn't _ask_?"

"Why would I ask?"

"Because you're his father!" Bonnie exclaimed. "And it's your job to know what's going on with your son."

"That's his private life. His very _private_ life."

"I don't believe this. I doubt very much you would be this casual if Eric were a _girl._ "

"He's _not_ a girl. Look, I told him to use a condom."

"Well isn't that just grand! All that communicates is that he should go right ahead whether he's ready or not!"

" _Ready_? He's a teenage boy. He's _always_ ready."

"Oh, you're insufferable!" Bonnie picked up a pillow and whacked his chest with it.

He yanked the pillow out of her hands. "Do I need to get _dressed_ for this conversation? And _restrain_ you during it?"

"Well, get dressed anyway. I promise to restrain myself."

When they were both dressed and they were on the living room couch, she said, "Teenage brains are still developing. They may think they're ready for things they aren't actually _ready_ for. Don't you regret some of the sex you had when you were younger, before you met your wife?"

"No."

"Really?"

"I regret not being a gentleman with all of those girls, but I don't regret the _sex_. I regret having to tell my wife about my past history and seeing her disappointment in me, but I don't regret the _sex_."

"Well that's all _part_ of the sex."

"Look," Deacon said, defensively, "I had a conversation with Eric before he went away to the ranch. I told him that I wanted him to _respect_ girls, that I didn't like the way he'd been cycling through cheerleaders – "

"-He _cycled_ through cheerleaders?"

"I implied he shouldn't be too casual."

"You _implied_ it?" she asked.

"But this thing he has with Tami is _not_ casual. Tami is his steady girlfriend. He loves your niece. I've never seen him like this before. He is head over heels for that girl."

"All the more reason not to make a misstep," Bonnie told him. "Do you really think they're doing it?"

"I don't know, Bonnie. I made an assumption. Maybe I'm wrong." He sighed. "As for the beach, I figure…if they're going to do it, they'll do it wherever they can find to do it. The beach isn't going to _make_ them do it. And we aren't going to stop them."

"You are very surprisingly laissez faire about this. And all this time I thought you were old fashioned."

"Oh, I am. If he accidentally knocks her up, he's marrying her, even if I have to get my shotgun."

"That would be a _terrible_ reason to get married. I think that's why my sister got married. And that ended horribly."

"Seriously?" Deacon asked. "That strict, religious nutcase who is always judging people got knocked up before she was married?"

"Don't say mean things about my sister."

"I apologize."

"Although," Bonnie agreed, "she is a bit of a nutcase. But her life hasn't been easy, either, and she told me she's getting help. She's finally seeing someone. Anyway, this isn't about my sister. This is about Eric and Tami, and you and Eric."

"What about me and Eric?"

"You need to talk to him. _Directly_. About sex, and whether he's having it with Tami and whether he _should_ be having it. It's _not_ true that teenagers will do whatever they're going to do no matter what you say. If they respect you, they _will_ hear what you say. They may or may not act on your advice in the end, but it at least will go into their processing bank. It _will_ influence their decisions. So you should have that talk."

"Well why don't you write me a script then, Bonnie?"

She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at him. "Excuse me?"

"Well, you obviously have something specific you want me to say to him. Because what I said before clearly wasn't good enough for you. I'm obviously a failure as a father in your eyes."

"I did _not_ say that. I didn't _imply_ it. I don't _believe_ it."

Deacon sighed, looked away, and shook his head.

"Deacon," she said softly. "Do you think if your wife was alive today, she might have had a different conversation with Eric than you did?"

"Of course," he conceded. "She was his _mother_. She's a woman. I'm his _father_. I'm a man."

"And that's why it's ideal for a kid to have both a mother and a father. But Eric doesn't."

Deacon toyed with the fabric on the arm of the couch, picking at a loose string. "So I have to be both," he said, "even though I don't have a clue how? Is that what you're saying?"

"I understand you won't have this conversation my way. I don't _expect_ you to. You won't do it like a woman. But you need to say more than _just_ …use a condom!"

"Say what, exactly?"

"Ask him if he's having sex with Tami and go from there. You'll figure it out."

Deacon shifted uncomfortably.

"I understand it's not an easy conversation. I'm going to be having it with Tami, too. I should have had it sooner. Based on some things she'd said in our earlier conversations, I assumed they _weren't_ having sex, but I haven't talked to her about it in a while, and maybe they _are_ now. And maybe I've dropped the ball a little bit on Tami because she really seems to have her head on her shoulders these days, and now I've got Shelley to deal with."

Deacon was still toying with that string. "You know…" he said…"Eric _would_ have a mother, if you would marry me."

"I am not talking to your son about sex. That would be much too weird and he would never speak to me again."

"I'm not asking you to talk to him about sex. I'm asking you to _marry_ me."

"After we just had a fight?" she asked.

"I like the way you fight. It's quick and direct and I don't have to guess why I upset you."

"You told me you weren't going to do this again. That you were going to relax and we were just going to have fun for the next few months."

"It's _been_ a few months," he said.

"It's been _three_."

"And a few is three or more," Deacon said.

"I thought by a few you meant seven or eight," she said.

"Seven or more is _several_ ," he insisted.

"I need _a few_ to be more than three months."

"I'm not a very patient man."

"I'm aware." She leaned in and kissed him. "I need to get back to work. And so do you." She stood, walked over to the armchair where she'd left her shoes when he was stripping her on the way to the bedroom, and slipped into them.

[*]

"Let me taste yours." Tami, who was sitting next to Eric on the hood of his sedan, now that she was _un_ -grounded, leaned over and licked his ice cream cone.

"That is so hot," he said.

"Shush it!" she told him. "And I'm not doing that. _Yet_."

"Hey, your mind went there. Not mine. I didn't say anything about that."

"The implication was obvious."

He shrugged and licked his peach ice cream into a smooth circle. They weren't at the DQ. He couldn't stand DQ anymore after working there all summer. They were parked outside of a local ice cream shop that served homemade ice cream – always vanilla, strawberry, chocolate, and the flavor of the week, in this case - peach. Tami had selected strawberry. "I can't help it if you have a dirty mind."

She looked at him teasingly, bit the bottom of her sugar cone, and started to suck the ice cream out.

He winced and clenched his legs together. "That is _not_ hot. You bit that straight off."

Tami laughed, and the ice cream dribbled all over her chin and cheeks. "Now look what you've done!" she exclaimed, as though he'd been the one to put the ice cream on her face.

"Here, I'll help you clean it off." He held his cone in one hand and her face in the other and began licking the ice cream off her flesh. She squealed and squirmed and tried to get away, but then he peppered her with kisses until she laughed.

"Break it up, kids," came a voice. They turned to see Sheriff Chavez who must have just pulled into the parking lot of the ice cream shop and stepped out of his car. "This is a place of business. Not make-out junction."

"Yes, sir," Eric said and slid off the hood. He extended his hand to Tami to help her down.

Sheriff Chavez looked him over, his hat titled low over his stern, dark eyes. "How'd that ranch work out for you?"

"Good, sir. Very good."

"Mhmh. I reckon so. I haven't seen you in my station since."

"No, sir. And you won't ever again." He smiled. "Unless I'm bailing out my dad."

Sherrif Chavez's lips drew a stern line. "That isn't funny. You should respect your father."

"Yes, sir. I do, sir."

"He's been through _hell_ over you, boy. You know that?"

"I…." Eric swallowed. "I didn't mean to put him through any of that."

"Nobody ever means to do anything," the Sheriff said. He titled his hat to Tami, "You have a nice evening, miss," and then he went inside the ice cream shop.

Eric sighed. He looked at his cone. "I don't want this anymore. You want it?"

"I'll throw it away." She took his half-eaten cone, and her mostly empty, dripping one, and tossed them both in a nearby trashcan. Then she pulled out the napkin she'd shoved in the pocket of her jean shorts and wiped her face.

Eric opened her car door for her, shut it, and then went around to the driver's side. When he was driving, she said, "That was kind of unnecessary of him, wasn't it? The stuff about you putting your dad through hell."

"Well it's not untrue."

"That's all in the past," she reassured him. He didn't look reassured. He looked upset. So she said, "I have some really good news I've been waiting to tell you."

He glanced at her. "Yeah? What?"

"My aunt says we can go to the beach this weekend."

"Really? She agreed?"

Tami nodded. "I had to have a really in-depth, uncomfortable, personal conversation with her about sex first, but, yeah she agreed." She turned to him expecting to see a big smile on his face, but now he just looked more upset. "What's wrong?"

" _My dad_ changed his mind. Said I shouldn't be spending an entire weekend with my girlfriend at this age. Said that was too big a step, and we should take it _slower_ , and I can go see Tommy but I can't bring you."

"Really? Why?"

"I don't know! He just started asking me all these weird, abrupt questions – are we having sex? How far have we gone? Am I _sure_ I know what you really want? Do I realize that sometimes girls say they're ready for something even when they're _not_ ready because they don't want to lose a guy, but then they regret it? Do I understand how serious sex is? If we end up married someday and we have kids and we have a daughter would I want my daughter to know what I was doing with her mother when she was just seventeen?"

"That _is_ weird. Why would we ever tell our daughter about our sex lives in high school?"

He glanced at her, a little wide-eyed.

"I mean…not that we're getting married! I mean, not that we _aren't_ either. I mean, not that it's likely. But not that it's impossible. I just mean…why is your dad talking about us having sex and getting married?"

"I don't know!"

"You know, my aunt kind of asked some of the same questions," Tami told him. "Not like _that_ , but…oh my God! Do you think they compare notes?"

Eric pulled into the church parking lot where they usually parked to make out and glided into a space under the shade of a tree. He threw the car into park, turned off the engine, and cranked down the window. "Maybe we should ask _them_ if _they're_ having sex."

"Yeah," said Tami, cranking down her window, "Maybe we should say, hey! Do you understand how serious sex is? You two aren't _married_ you know. Are you sure you're _ready_?"

"Yeah! And tell my dad to remember to use a condom, like that's never crossed his mind before!"

Tami laughed.

Eric laughed.

"Oh God," she said, her tone changing to mortification. "They talk about us having sex, don't they?"

"That is so not cool," Eric said.

"So not cool," she agreed. They both looked out the front windshield. She sighed. "I really don't feel like making out now. Can you just take me home? I mean, not end the date, but…you want to come in? Play some Atari?"

"You got an Atari?"

"My aunt bought Shelley one for her birthday. She turned fourteen this summer."

"Wow!"

"We only have Combat, Pac man, and Missile Command though."

"Better than nothing." He started the car and cranked up his window. "Wait. Is Shelley going to be there?"

"She _lives_ there. Please? I want to play with you."

He put his hand on the gear shift. "Then maybe we should stay parked."

She slapped his hand playfully. "Cut that out! Drive!"

"Yes, ma'am." He reversed out of the parking space. "You think your aunt might talk to my dad and convince him to let us go together to the beach?"

"I don't think my aunt's in control of your dad."

"Oh, I think maybe she is. At least a little bit. I think she's the reason he hasn't been giving me such a hard time lately. At least…he wasn't. He was lightening up. But then he did that weird reversal on the beach. I bet she could get him to say yes again."

"Well, I'll just casually mention to her that your dad took back his permission, and then we'll wait and see what happens."

"We only have a few days until Friday."

"Well I'm not going to _ask_ her directly to talk to him about it."

Eric pulled onto the roadway. "Then let's just hope she does." The car picked up speed and headed toward their neighborhood.


	50. Chapter 50

Deacon pulled out Bonnie's chair for her. God she loved it when he did that. It was so old-fashioned and subservient. She felt like a princess. She'd never had a boyfriend pull-out her chair before. She sat down with a smile and let him help her scoot it in before sitting across from her and smoothing his tie down away from the dinner table. That suit wasn't helping. He looked so masculine and refined in a suit, completely different from the way he looked on the field. She'd never been much for jocks, but she couldn't say she disliked the way he looked on the field either, or that athletic build - the sheer strength of his form and the way his muscles -

"- Wine?"

"What?" she asked, her surroundings slowly coming back into focus.

"Do you have a preference?"

"Red. I'm getting steak. Oh and I'm buying tonight."

"No need." He turned a page of the wine list.

"Well, need or no need, I _am_." She waited for him to protest and was surprised - and maybe even a little disappointed - when he didn't.

"Well, in that case let's get the good wine."

"Excuse me?"

"You never seem to be on a budget. Those raunchy sex novels must have done well."

Bonnie held up a finger. Her sparkly red nail polish glistened in the candlelight on the table. "They were _not_ raunchy sex novels!" He was smirking with amusement. She lowered her hand. "Don't accept my sister's description of them. They were _sensual_ romance novels."

He set the wine list aside but his smirk remained in place. "Well tell me your pen name and let me judge for myself, darling."

"No."

He chuckled.

"Besides, they aren't in print anymore. I want the filet with mashed potatoes and asparagus and the horseradish on the side." She told him all this because she liked him to _order_ for her. She just didn't like him to _decide_ for her. "And just get the house cab. It looks perfectly fine. And I _am_ on a budget. I intend to help my nieces with college, you know. At least one year's tuition each. Maybe two, if I can swing it."

"You really think Shelley's going to college?"

Bonnie snapped her menu shut. "She had a B+ average last year in 8th grade, Deacon."

"Really?"

She laughed at how shocked he sounded. "I understand your confusion. It's not for effort. She never studies. And she forgets her homework a lot. She's flaky, but she's smart. She took the PSAT last year, too. She was a national merit semifinalist."

" _Really?_ "

"But you may be right about her not going to college. She has so many interests. I could see her just deciding to backpack across Europe with some guy she meets at the rodeo."

"At...the _rodeo_?"

"It would be just like Shelley. If she _does_ go to college, she may well change her major four times and never finish." She sighed. "But I still feel I should support her just the same as Tami."

"A national merit semifinalist? Doesn't she get a scholarship for that?"

"Only finalists get scholarships. Still, Shelley's quite bright. So's Tami, but, honestly, Tami has to work harder at school, which may be why she's more disciplined than Shelley. Tami has _drive._ My sister's bright, too. You probably didn't notice because she's so bitter. That man really did a number on her. If she had been born in another time or place, she might have been a lawyer or a doctor. But, you know...she was born in a time where women only get to be teachers or nurses."

"You're not a teacher or a nurse."

"Yes, but I'm unusual."

Deacon chuckled. "You don't have to tell me that."

"What do you think your late wife would have been, if she hadn't been a housewife?"

"She would have owned and managed a ranch. We talked of doing it, actually, when I retired. I'd of helped, but she'd have been the one behind it. We were saving for a down payment. We were assuming Eric would get a full ride to college for football. Now, I'm not as sure he will. That hiatus didn't help. But Ivy thought - " He looked off into a corner, a little wistfully, and bit down on his bottom lip. Bonnie almost wished she hadn't brought it up, but she also thought she shouldn't pretend he hadn't been married most of his adult life. He cleared his throat, turned his head, and motioned the waiter to order. When the waiter was gone, he changed the subject, told her she looked beautiful in her dress, and asked about her day at work.

It wasn't until halfway through dinner that Bonnie brought up the subject she'd been wanting to talk about all evening. "So...after talking with you, I told Tami she could go to the beach with Eric. I'm curious why you reversed your position and told him he _couldn't_ go with her?"

"I thought that's what you _wanted_ me to do?"

"I wanted you to talk with him, seriously and openly, about sex. I didn't ask you to tell him he couldn't go to the beach."

"I can't win with you!" He dropped his fork on his plate, leaned back in his chair, and shook his head.

"Deacon," she said softly.

He threw up a hand. "So now you want me to reverse my decision again? Is that it?"

"I want to _understand_ it," she said. "Did you really say it just because you thought that's what _I_ wanted?"

He picked up his fork again, but he didn't eat. He poked at his food. "When I spoke to Eric - and I _did_ speak to him about sex and respecting Tami like you wanted - it struck me just how very serious he is."

"And?"

"It's moving very quickly, this relationship between our kids. They're seventeen. I think they should slow down. They have their whole lives ahead of them. They'll probably go to different colleges and find different people. They shouldn't be this intense this soon. It'll lead to serious heartbreak. Eric's only had one other serious girlfriend, and when that blew up, he went off the rails. I know that had a lot to do with him mom's death, but I think it had _something_ to do with that girl dumping him, too, which I admit I did not know about when I should have." He sighed. "And he was nowhere near as intense about her as he is about Tami."

"And you think if they go away for a weekend together...that will make things...more intense?"

"Why do you think I've been trying to get you to go away with me?"

"Because you want a weekend full of sex?" Bonnie asked.

"Well, that too. But because I want to..." He rolled his hand. "Move this along."

"We're exclusive already, Deacon. There's only one place left to move this along to, and I think I've made it clear that it's not time for that. That I'm not ready."

"I thought we were talking about the kids, not us."

"We are talking about the kids," she agreed. "You can't protect his heart, Deacon. You have to let him give it and risk it as he wants. It may well break. But it will heal. Mine's broken and healed five times."

"Maybe it hasn't."

"Excuse me?"

"How serious were you about any of those men, really? You told me yourself you were avoiding commitment. You still are, frankly."

"Deacon, we've been dating less than a year."

He reached for his wine glass, took a silent sip, and put it down. "How old are you, Bonnie? How old am I? We aren't teenagers, either of us. But _they_ are. I just don't want him to get hurt. Hell, _I_ don't want to get hurt."

"Well, you're not in control of that. You're not in control of either of those things."

"I don't like not being in control."

Bonnie smiled. "I've figured that out." She reached across the table for his hand. "Deacon, I love you. I have no intention of hurting you. But I don't want to get hurt either. You can't just rush into marrying me to ensure I never hurt you. Husband and wives hurt each other all the time. Marriages break up."

His broad shoulders rose and fell with his sigh. "So you want me to tell Eric he can go on this trip?"

"I want you to do what you sincerely believe is best, after you've thought it over some more." She squeezed his hand and let go.

[*]

"I got it, I got it!" Eric insisted, grabbing Tami's large duffel bag from her hand and settling it into the tiny trunk of his sedan. Then she tossed in the very full backpack she had been wearing over her shoulder, next to the single backpack he had packed, a loose football, and his beach towel.

He was getting ready to shut the trunk when she said, "Hold on! I've got my beach bag, too."

"We're only going for two nights!" he called after her as she ran back toward her house. He blinked when she came out with an enormous mesh beach bag that seemed filled to the brim. "Hell's in there?"

"My towel, my swim suits - "

"- Swim suits? As in plural?"

"Well I need one for sunbathing and one for actually swimming. The one I like to sunbathe in won't stay on in the waves."

He grinned. "What's wrong with that?"

She smacked his shoulder. "I've also got my cover up in there - "

"- You don't need to cover up."

"An extra towel for when that other towel gets too wet or sandy, my flip flops," He glanced at the sandals already on her feet, "my volleyball, suntan lotion, a refillable water bottle, a frisbee...some other stuff."

He glanced in the trunk. "So what's in those two bags?"

"Clothes! And toiletries."

He shook his head, crammed her beach bag into the trunk, and slammed it shut. He slid and arm around her waist and drew her to himself and kissed her. "Galveston beach, babe. Here we come."

Tami stepped away, threw up her arms, and whooped. "Beach trip!" She ran to the front of the car and, before he could get in the driver's side and start the car, she was already taking his ejected tape out of the tape player and putting in her own. "We're listening to the Beach Boys the whole way there," she insisted.

Eric groaned.


	51. Chapter 51

Eric took one hand off the steering wheel, reached over, and jerked Tami back down by the waistband of her jean shorts. Her butt thudded onto the seat. She'd been hanging half out the window, arms outstretched, whooping, "Beach trip!" She seemed to be having fun, but Eric wasn't thrilled with the honking of an overly appreciative trucker.

"Roll up that window," he said. "I'm putting on the A/C."

"I thought the A/C didn't work." Tami cranked up the window.

"My friend Jimmy fixed it for me for $10." The air began to blow from the vents. "He's on the vocational track, taking all those automotive classes."

"Is he the one who plays center?" Tami put her hand in front of the vent to feel the air.

"No, that's Timmy. Jimmy is special teams. Maybe you should buckle up."

Tami flicked off her sandals, scooted back the seat, and put her bare feet up on the dash. "Seat belts are so uncomfortable."

He tried to keep his eyes on the road instead of on her long, bare legs. "My dad says they're going to make it a law soon that you _have_ to wear them. Or you can get fined."

"Fascists!"

"Seriously, maybe you should wear it. In case you make me crash with those damn sexy legs of yours."

Tami sighed, swiveled her legs off the dash, and sat up straight. She scooted the seat up a little again and then clicked the seat belt into place. "There. Happy now Mr. Safety Police?"

"Hey, I just like you alive is all."

"For a guy who got arrested and sent to a ranch to get straightened out, you sure are stickler for rules."

"Rules have their place," Eric said. He reached across her and popped open the glove compartment to get his sunglasses, because the sun had fully risen now. They'd left before it had and watched it rise over the road. Tami had already put her sunglasses on. A bunch of junk spilled out in her lap. "Sorry. Can you hand me those shades?"

Tami plucked them from the floor and passed them over and then began shoving stuff back in the glove compartment again. "What's this?" She held up the tire gauge.

"It's for checking the air pressure. Please tell me you know how to check your tires."

"I don't even have a car," Tami said. "And my bike pump has a built-in gauge."

"I'll show you how to use it later." She didn't have a dad to show her all that stuff. "I'll show you how to check the oil, too. I'm probably going to have to top it off by the time we get past Huntsville. I got a little bit of a leak."

"Is this car going to make it all the way to Galveston?"

"She'll make it." He patted the dash board. "She's a good little car."

Tami laughed. "How long is the drive going to take?"

"We've got another four hours. In an hour, I figured we'd hit a rest stop, have a breakfast picnic." He jerked his head toward the backseat, where there was a cooler.

Tami turned and glanced at it. "Aww. You packed us a picnic? That's so sweet." She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "You get extra points for that."

"Yeah? What do I get to cash in my points for?"

She chuckled. "Well that's for me to decide and you to find out."

His eyes flitted to her chest, then down to her legs, then back at the road.

"You think I can't see you checking me out through those shades, but I _can_ ," she warned him.

"Got my eyes on the road," he swore.

[*]

They eventually pulled into a rest stop with bathrooms and a picnic area. While Eric set up brunch on one of the the picnic tables, Tami went to the bathroom.

When she got back, she lowered her red-rimmed sunglasses down to her nose and peered at the plastic champagne flutes he'd set out. There was an open bottle next to them, and for a terrified moment, she was reminded of that party where she'd lost her virginity, where all of the boys were trying to get all of the girls drunk and loose. "Eric?"

"It's sparkling grape juice! You know I'm not drinking again until I'm 21."

"Oh." She laughed and slid her glasses back up on her nose. "And orange juice?"

"I'm making you a mimosa. It's what the fancy rich people have with their brunch. I figure you deserve the very best."

She smiled and sat down on the bench across from him. He'd also brought pastries from the bakery section of the grocery store and hard boiled eggs. "You've thought of everything. Are you trying to seduce me?"

He smiled. "Just trying to romance you."

She smiled back. "I appreciate that." And she did. She appreciated that she didn't feel like he was pressuring her to have sex, that they could take this relationship as slowly as she wanted, that she could even go away for an entire weekend with him and not worry he had an ulterior motive to get into her pants. She raised her flute. "To a weekend of fun and freedom."

"Fun and freedom!" he agreed, raising his own glass and then toasting hers.

She sipped. And winced. And then tried to hide the wince.

"This is awful," he said.

"I'm so glad you think so." She set it down.

"Sorry. It seemed like a good idea." He poured his out on the grass. She did the same. "Just OJ, or just sparkling grape juice?" he asked.

"Just the grape juice, but let me wash this out in the water fountain first."

They ate and laughed and talked and had a bit of a scare when a cop sauntered over, the brim of his sheriff's hat pushed down over his sunglass-hidden eyes, a hand on the butt of the gun in his holster. "There's no alcohol permitted at rest stops, and y'all look like you're only about seventeen."

"It's grape juice, sir," Eric said.

The cop reached out, turned the bottle, and looked at the label. Then he lifted it and sniffed. "So it is."

"Would you like some officer, sir?" Tami asked.

"No thank you, ma'am. Y'all take care. And beware the one armed hitchhiker." He sauntered on toward the bathrooms.

Tami laughed nervously. "Did he really just say beware the one-armed hitchhiker?"

"Yeah, he did. You know that story?"

"Everyone knows that story. He has a hook for a hand. It's an old legend, and it isn't true." But still she looked around at the various parked cars at the rest stop, and her eyes rested for a moment on a sketchy looking man. "Let's get going," she said.

Eric had a field day with it, of course. After they'd been driving again for another few minutes, he said, "Do you hear that scraping? Up on the hood?"

"Stop it!" she told him as she shoved his shoulder, which caused him to swerve slightly. He briefly crossed into the other lane and then righted the car again.

"Watch it," he said. "You're going to make me side swipe someone."

They stopped once more on the way, for bathrooms and to top off the oil, and, soon enough, they were at the "beach house," a small town house in a row of townhouses a good three blocks from the beach itself.

Tommy and Jessica met them in the narrow driveway, where they parked behind the Jeep Tommy's mom and dad had bought him for his 16th birthday, the wheels of Eric's sedan slightly in the street.

Tommy introduced them to his girlfriend, a raven-haired, dark eyed Hispanic beauty, and then started to help grab bags out of the trunk. "Jeez! You brought even more than Jessica did for the weekend!"

"Girls," Eric muttered to him.

When they got inside, Tommy said, "I stocked the fridge with beer, so we're ready to party."

"Aw, man, I don't drink anymore, but thanks," Eric said.

"Your aunt lets you drink beer?" Tami asked skeptically.

"Well, no, not when she's home," Tommy said, walking into a bedroom and throwing Tami's two bags on top of the bed. Tami followed him in and looked around. The bed was neatly made up, and it didn't look like Jessica's things were anywhere in the room. "But she's at that conference four four days."

"What?" Tami asked. She looked at Eric, who still had his backpack on his shoulder and was standing in the doorway. He shook his head and opened his mouth. Before he could speak, Tami turned back to Tommy. "I thought she was going to be here this weekend."

"No. Of course she isn't. Why do you think we _planned_ it for this weekend?" Tommy asked with a laugh. "So me and Jessica are in the bedroom across the hall there. There's clean towels for you in the bathroom. Just don't do it in the shower. Jessica and I did that last night and almost knocked a hole in the tile. I had to fix it this morning and it's kind of loose. I'll let y'all get changed and then we'll hit the beach." Tommy eased past Eric, grabbed Jessica by the hand, and dragged her into the other bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

Eric was standing in the doorway, his mouth slightly open, when Tami whirled on him. "What the hell?" she asked. "You _told_ me his aunt would be here and that I'd be sharing a room with Jessica."

"Yeah, I uh - "

"- You _planned_ this?"

"No. No I didn't - "

"- Tommy said y'all _planned_ this."

"I uh - "

"- You _lied_ to me? You had me _lie_ to my aunt, who _trusted_ me, and now - "

"- Tami, listen - "

"- I can't believe you did this! Was this just to get me to share a room and have sex with you? All of this? This whole beach trip!"

"No! Listen, Tami -"

"- Take me home!"

"What?"

Tami grabbed a bag angrily in each hand. "Take me home right now. Take me back to Euless. I'm not staying here. If all you care about is getting laid this weekend, and not being honest with me, then fine. Find some other girl to screw. Take me home."

"Tami, calm down. C'mon, wait a - "

"Take me home!" she pushed passed him into the hallway and began to storm away.

Tommy opened the other bedroom door and looked out. "Everything all right out here?" he asked. He was in his swim trunks. Jessica was peering curiously over his shoulder as she fastened the back of her bikini.

Tami turned. "Thanks for inviting us, Tommy," she said, trying not to cry, "but I had a sudden family emergency and I have to go home now."

Tommy looked at her in confusion. "Go home? Family emergency? There's not even a phone in that bedroom. How did you hear about a family - "

"- Sorry, I have to go." Tami had to get out of here before she broke down. She'd been an idiot to think that Eric was any different than Mo or any other guy, that he'd be willing to be patient with her, that he cared about her and whether she was ready. He just wanted what they _all_ wanted, and he'd decided it was time, and forget it if she was ready or not! She wanted to scream. To weep. But she wasn't going to do either here in front of Tommy and his girlfriend.

She walked quickly down the hall, struggling with both bags, toward the front door. She tucked one bag under her arm, jerked open the door, and walked outside, slamming the door shut behind herself. She dropped her bags on the trunk of Eric's car, put her palms down flat on the metal, and breathed in.


	52. Chapter 52

"What the hell, man!" Eric shouted at Tommy after the door had shut. "You told me your aunt was going to be here and that Tami and Jessica could share a room."

"I never told you my aunt was going to be here."

"I asked if she was there, and you said yes!"

"Yeah, because she was here _when_ you asked. You didn't ask if she was _going_ to be here! And I said Jessica was going to be here and that we had an extra room. That's _all_ I said. Is that what Tami's so upset about?"

"Yes!" Eric cried. "She's pissed off at me now!"

"Look, man, don't blame it on me. I can't help it if your girlfriend's a total prude."

Eric gripped the thick strands of his hair and nearly pulled some out when he dislodged his hand. He took a menacing step toward Tommy, his jaw clenching. He wanted so badly to punch him right now, but it wasn't Tommy's fault, not really. He hadn't been too clear when he'd made the plans, and what about Tami? Wasn't she seriously overreacting, after all? He'd never done anything to pressure her. How could she think he was trying to _trick_ her?

"Sorry, man," Tommy said. "I shouldn't have said that. She's not a prude. I mean, maybe she _is_ , but I shouldn't have said it."

"Sweetie," Jessica said from behind him, "I don't think you're making it better. Just stop at sorry."

"Sorry," Tommy said.

"Look, if it'll make Tami more comfortable, I'll room with her while y'all are here," Jessica told Eric.

Tommy did not appear to like that idea at all.

Eric sighed. "I gotta talk to her. I'll let you know if we're staying or not."

When he got outside of the house, Tami was wiping tears from her eyes. She turned away from him to try to hide them when he came around to the trunk. "Tami, I didn't know. I swear." He put a hand flat on the trunk next to one of her bags. "Why would you think I did?"

"Because Tommy said y'all _planned_ it this way."

"He must have meant that he and Jessica planned it this way. Not me and him. I didn't get enough details, and I should have, but I really thought his aunt would be here. I wasn't trying to trick you. Why would I do that?"

"Your friends think I'm a prude."

"What?"

She pointed toward the house. "The window's open. I heard all that."

Eric glanced back at the open window. He lowered his voice. "Let's go for a drive." He put her bags in the trunk, unlocked her door, and shut it for her once she was in. The metal handle was hot and singed his hand slightly when he pulled it open, and Tami was wiping away the last of her tears as he backed out of the driveway.

He tore off quickly for three blocks and then pulled into the far end of the mostly empty parking lot of a surf shop, where he jerked the car into park and shut it off.

"Do you think I'm a prude, too?" she asked quietly. "Like your friends do?"

"No. But I wish you hadn't gone off the rails like that, because it was embarrassing."

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I didn't mean to embarrass you in front of your friends."

He shook his head and sighed. "I don't really care about that," he muttered. "I wish you hadn't reacted like that because I wouldn't do that to you, Tami!" He smacked the steering wheel in frustration. "I wouldn't do that to you! Because I _love_ you!"

It got suddenly very quiet in the car, and he wished he hadn't raised his voice. Or slapped the steering wheel. Gradually, he realized she wasn't quiet because of the yelling or because he'd pounded the steering wheel. She was quiet because he'd let slip the three little words he'd been holding so close to his heart, for fear she wouldn't say them back.

"What?" she asked.

He swallowed. He looked out the window at two shirtless bikers in swim trunks who were pedaling by the shop. "I love you," he repeated. He bit his bottom lip and waited for her to say something.

"I love you, too," she said softly. "Maybe that's _why_ I got so upset, because I really thought...I mean I _do_ think...you're such a great guy, Eric. And I've fallen for you. Totally. And in that one moment, I was afraid maybe I'd been stupid again, that I read you all wrong, that I was just lying to myself, that maybe I'm not very good at judging guys, and..." Her voice hitched.

He turned to her. "You aren't wrong! You aren't wrong at all. I love you. I love you so goddamn much."

Tami gasp-cried, laughed, and then grabbed him by the back of the neck and yanked him in for a long kiss. When their lips parted, he bent his neck and pressed his forehead against hers. "I swear I wasn't planning to try anything this weekend. I mean...anything more than we've already done. I was maybe gonna try some of that in the water."

She smiled and sniffled.

"Look, Tami, I get you wish you hadn't had sex with that guy at that party. And I know you thought Mo was constantly trying to get you into bed. And he probably was."

"We didn't go all the way," she told him, "but sometimes I think I let Mo do things, and I did things with him, just because I thought I had to give him something, you know? Or he'd break up with me."

Eric pulled back a little, his arm still around her and his hand resting on her shoulder. He searched her eyes. "I'm not gonna lie. I want to have sex with you something awful _._ No question about it. But I don't want you to feel bad about having sex with me, the way you felt bad about that guy at the party. I don't want you to feel like you're letting me do things just because you have to, the way you did with Mo. I want you to feel _good_ about _everything_ we do together. And when we finally do have sex, I want it to be _great_ for you. I want it to be something you never regret, even if you dump me one day. So when we _do_ do it...it's gotta be the right time. For you. Okay?"

She nodded. Her eyelids fluttered and she swallowed. She was trying not to cry again.

"Don't cry. Don't cry. I hate it when you cry." He kissed her.

She sniffled. "It's a happy cry this time."

"Don't happy cry. Happy kiss."

Tami smiled and kissed him. They spent the next couple of minutes tasting each other's lips and tongues, until it go too hot in the car to bare. Tami pulled away, turned, and cranked down her window. Eric did the same thing and then started the car to get the A/C going. With the car idling, he turned to look at her again. "Jessica says if you want, she'll share a room with you."

"Eric, I can't. I can't stay here overnight without an adult in the house."

"After everything I just said, you still - "

"- I _trust_ you. I do. I'm sorry I jumped to that conclusion without talking it through first. I just got scared and upset because it sounded like - "

"- I know what it sounded like. You believe me though, don't you?" he asked.

"Yes. I believe you. I _trust_ you."

"Then what's the problem?"

"I told my aunt an adult would be here. She only agreed on that condition. I'd be lying to her if I stayed without one. I used to lie my mom all the time. I don't want that anymore. I was so immature. I want be the kind of niece and daughter who can be trusted. And if I do this, I might lose my aunt's trust."

Eric nodded slowly. "A'ight."

"I'm so sorry."

"Well, listen. We left early in the morning. It's not even one thirty yet. Let's stay for the day. Go to the beach for three or four hours. Swim. Maybe ride the ferris wheel on the pier. Then we'll go out for a nice, early dinner. And after dinner, I'll drive us back to Euless. I'll have you home by midnight. What do you say?"

"That sounds really great. I'm just sorry to make you drive ten hours in one day."

"Eh. It's Texas. I've done it before."

She smiled. "I _really_ want to spend a day at the beach with you."

He grinned. "So let's do it. But I better go back and tell Tommy what's going on."

"Your friends are going to hate me now."

"No, they won't. And, hell, I don't even _know_ Jessica. And that's not going to last after the summer's over anyway. You'll never see her again."

Tami snorted. "She seems nice. And pretty."

"Yeah, but she lives in San Antonio, and Tommy isn't going to hold out. He's a total horn dog. She probably deserves better anyway."

"But you're not a total horn dog?"

"I am, but I'm used to delaying gratification and working for the things I want. Tommy's not. He gets everything handed to him. Like that Jeep."

Tami leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Well, when you work for something, they say it's even sweeter when you get it."

"So they say." He wiggled an eyebrow and put a hand on the stick shift. "You want them to come to the beach with us," he asked as he reversed out of the parking space, "or you just want it to be us today?"

"Would it be selfish if I said just us?"

"No. That's why _I_ asked. Didn't know what you wanted."

"Just us," she said firmly, and he smiled as he drove down the road.


	53. Chapter 53

At Tommy's house, Tami called her aunt to tell her of the change in plans, but she ended up leaving a message on the answering machine. She and Eric were soon at the beach, their towels weighted down by their shoes, slathering sun tan lotion all over each other. Eric took his sweet time applying it to Tami, and then they raced each other into the waves, kicking up sand as they ran.

They made out in the shallow water, kissing and exploring one another's mouths while the cool salt waters lapped at their waists, until a pair of kids shouted, "Ewwwwww!" and they stopped and swam in deeper.

Eric tried to body surf and ended up ground into the shore, with several cups of sand down his trunks. "Want to help me get it out?" he asked, and Tami rolled her eyes and pointed him toward the bathhouse and showers.

He came back feeling better, only to find her half asleep, stomach down on the towel, and a couple of guys lingering nearby, checking out her ass. "Screw off!" he ordered them, and they did.

Tami rolled over when he lay down on his side beside her. "Who were you talking to?" she asked sleepily.

"A crab."

"Hmm." She sounded unconvinced, but she leaned forward and kissed him. Just when things were getting good, she pulled away and asked him to play volleyball with her. Reluctantly, he trailed her to one of the nets, where she promptly massacred him in a game of one-on-one. He had to admit, though, that it was worth it just to watch her jumping for that ball.

[*]

"Where are you taking me?" Bonnie demanded.

Deacon grinned and kept driving. "And I thought you were the kind of woman who liked surprises."

Shelley had been invited to spend the weekend with a friend she'd made at cheerleading camp. The family was going to their "Dallas house" - apparently they had two houses, one in the city and one in the suburbs. Bonnie had said yes because the mother seemed rational and respectable, if a bit too big-haired and bubble-rich for Bonnie's tastes. Besides, the girls were going to be going to an art museum _and_ a history museum. Shelley could use some culture.

She hadn't even had to ask Deacon to go away with her. She'd just had to call him at his office and casually mention that Shelley would not be back until Sunday afternoon, and he'd replied, "Pack a bag. And bring a bathing suit. I'm picking you up at your house in two hours." He promised to have her back by 11 AM on Sunday, hours before either of her nieces would be home.

And that was all she knew. Bonnie had thought, briefly, that he might be taking her to a hotel with a nice pool and restaurant in the downtown as they neared the Fort Worth exit signs, but then he'd just blown pass them all.

"How much farther are we driving?" she asked. "Can you at least tell me that?"

"We've got about another forty minutes."

She reached to open the glove compartment and rummaged around for a map to see what town was forty minutes south west of here. She still didn't know this area that well.

"No map in there, if that's what you're looking for."

She pulled out some papers that were folded in half and looked at them curiously.

"That's not anything you need," Deacon insisted. "Put that back."

But she didn't put it back. Her eyes ran over the first page with surprise. It was a three-year contract from the McAllen Independent School District. His name was on the top of it, and the starting date was August 30 of _this year_. Three job titles were listed: P.E. Teacher, Head Football Coach, and Assistant Director of Boys' Athletics, each with a separate salary or stipend, for a combined total of just at six figures. _Six figures._ She had no idea a high school football coach could make _six figures_. "Holy shit," she said.

"Put it back," he insisted, and she did, but not before glancing to the bottom where X marked the spot. He hadn't signed it.

Bonnie folded the contract up and shoved it hastily into the glove compartment before slamming the door shut. "McAllen is over 500 miles away."

"I know."

"Why would they want to hire you so late in the summer? You'd miss summer training with your new team."

"A sudden problem with the old coach and the fact that my current contract was worded strangely. Technically, it runs through the end of August, not the end of the school year."

"Are you going to take it? Have you told Eric about it? Why haven't you told _me_?" Five hundred miles. It wasn't like they'd be seeing each other on weekends.

"I haven't told anybody because I didn't want to say anything until I made up my mind. I just got it faxed to me two days ago. I have until Monday to sign it and fax it back, or they go with their second choice."

"What you mean you weren't going to talk to anybody _until_ you decided?" Bonnie said, her hair bobbing with the frustration of its speaker. "Don't you think it helps to have input to make a huge decision like that? Don't you care what your son thinks? What _I_ think? Don't you care at all?"

"I _know_ what my son thinks. He thinks he's in love with Tami. And maybe he is. And he would think it was the end of the world moving away from her. And he'd _hate_ the idea of having to start over on a new team, _after_ summer training, and in a new school. But it is a more serious division. A better team. He'll be noticed playing for that school, and he might get a really good college scholarship as a result."

"Is he even going to _need_ a college scholarship with that salary they're offering you?"

"Oh you saw that, did you?"

"Is that _normal_?" she asked. "Three jobs? How much work is that?"

"It's a rare offer. It's good money. Considerably more than I'm making right now, and the Assistant Director of Boys' Athletics job is purely titular. I'm assured I won't be doing much work in that particular role. They're just giving me that to work around the district's salary cap. Cost-of-living is cheaper there. I could live like a king."

"So...any disadvantages for you, personally?" she asked.

He glanced at her. "Well, I'd have to move away from _you_. Because God knows you aren't moving _with_ me."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

" _Supposed_ to mean?" he asked. "It means exactly what it means. You have your life here. I'm a nice appendage to it. But I'm not the _heart_ of it."

"Is this about me not wanting to get married? Are we going to have that argument _again?_ "

"No. We're _not_ going to have that argument again," he insisted. "We're going to drive on to this beautiful lakeside bed and breakfast in Grandbury, where I got us our own little cabin at the Inn, and we're going to swim in the lake, and then we're going out for a romantic candlelit dinner at a fancy steakhouse in the quaint downtown, and then we're going to go back to our cabin to have some _fantastic_ sex. We'll sleep in late, wake up, and have even more fantastic sex. And then you're getting a professional massage. After that, I'm taking you to lunch, and then we'll got to a matinee at the little theater on the square. See a musical. South Pacific."

"That all sounds really, really lovely. _So_ lovely, that I'm almost going to let you get away with trying to changing the subject."

"Bonnie - "

She held up a hand. "We won't talk about your little passive aggressive _I'm-just-an-appendage_ comment right now. But we need to talk some more about this contract." She pointed to the glove compartment.

[*]

Tami squealed and clung to Eric's arm. She peered over the edge of the cart to the pier and the gulf below. "We're really high up."

He chuckled. "I didn't think you were afraid of anything."

"I'm not," she said, casually sitting up a little straighter as the ferris wheel turned down a little. "But why have we been stuck up here so long?"

"They're unloading. It takes awhile. We'll get our turn." He slid and arm around her waist and yanked her close. "Good chance to make out." When he pushed against her to kiss her, the cart swayed a little, and she pulled away squealing.

Now he laughed. "You really _are_ scared."

"Am not," she insisted, gripping the iron bar in front of her.

"Don't worry," said Eric, sliding an arm protectively around her. "I got ya." He kissed her ear and whispered, "And I ain't letting go."


	54. Chapter 54

Deacon and Bonnie were still talking about the contract when he pulled his truck to a stop in the gravel parking lot of the Inn. In the distance, the quiet lake rippled softly. Deacon turned off the vehicle and rolled down his window.

"This sounds like an amazing opportunity for you," Bonnie said.

"It is. It could possibly lay the groundwork for me becoming an assistant college coach one day, which is not something I thought I'd ever achieve. And if I don't take it _now_ , there won't _be_ a later."

"Then maybe you _should_ take it."

This was why he hadn't mentioned the contract to her. Bonnie genuinely seemed to want the best for him, but he also suspected he would lose her if he moved. "My son would hate me. And..." He shrugged warily. "It's not as if you'd consider marrying me and moving your nieces to McAllen."

"You know, I haven't _ruled out_ marrying you, Deacon. I just think we need more time to date, and if we _do_ get married, it should be _after_ Eric and Tami are out of high school. Because that would be very strange - dating your stepbrother."

"Eric wouldn't be her _stepbrother._ She's not your _daughter_."

"Close enough. They'd be living in the same house. While dating."

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "I agree. Not the best idea." It was getting hot in the truck. "Let's check in and start enjoying our weekend, why don't we? I don't have to give an answer today."

[*]

"That thing's rigged!" Eric grumbled as they walked away from a game on the pier that involved throwing a football through a clown's open mouth. He'd really wanted to win Tami one of those huge, pink stuffed bears, too.

"Come here," she said, tugging his hand and pulling him around the side of the booth. She pointed, and from the angle where they now stood, he could see the shape of the mouth was different than it had appeared face on.

"It _is_ rigged!" he practically shouted.

"It's not _impossible_ for it to fit through there," she said. "But it would be really difficult."

"I _knew_ it wasn't me!"

She giggled and squeezed his bicep. "No, you're a superstar."

Eric frowned. "No need to be sarcastic."

"I'm sorry." She fake pouted. "I know you're a really good player, Eric. I mean, I _hear_ you are. I've never _seen_ you play an actual game. But I'll be at every single one of yours next season."

He grinned. "Yeah?"

"Well, I mean, except some of the away games. I don't have a car. And I'm not made of gas money. Some of those are like two hundred miles sometimes."

"Yeah, if we do well in the playoffs. The rest aren't that far."

"Well, I'll be at State," she promised with a twinkle in her eye. "I'll definitely cheer you on at State."

"You realize the Bowie Boars have never made it all the way to the State Championship, don't you?" he asked. "I mean, they've gotten closer every single year since my dad started coaching them, but they still haven't made it."

"Everyone is saying next year is supposed to be the year."

"Yeah, well, we'll see about that. I sure would like to finish my senior year with a bang."

Tami tugged him behind another game booth, where they had some privacy, and began to kiss him. She loved running her fingers through the thick strands of his short hair and the sweet-and-salty taste of his mouth.

Eric backed her up against the wooden backside of the booth and slid a hand beneath the white t-shirt she'd thrown over her bikini top. She gasped as he gently massaged her breast and arched herself further into his hand. He snaked his fingers inside one cup of her bikini and pinched a nipple as he explored her mouth with his tongue. Instinctively, she pushed her lower body into his and felt the growing erection beneath the fabric of his now dry swim trunks. He ground against her, and she responded instinctively for a moment before pushing him away. "I'm going to get splinters in my back," she said.

He breathed in and out, licked his lips, and looked like a sad little puppy.

She smiled sympathetically. "Maybe we should go to dinner?"

"It's only four-thirty," he managed.

"I know, but, you're trying to get me back by midnight. And if we keep this up...We're going to get arrested for indecent exposure."

"Hey, you started it."

She batted her eyelashes innocently. " _You_ accelerated it. And, you know, if we get back before midnight...we can park in that church parking lot and make out in the backseat. It should have cooled off by nighttime."

Eric grinned. "A'ight. Let's go to dinner now then!" He grabbed he hand and started to round the corner of the booth, but she tugged him back.

Tami nodded to his tented swim trunks. "Might want to let that subside first."

"Oh, yeah. Thanks for reminding me." He laughed and leaned in to kiss her, but she pushed him away.

"That's _not_ going to help," she told him.

"Then you go on and I'll catch up with you, because you look _way_ too hot right now, and that's not helping either."

She patted his cheek playfully and then walked around the booth, making a point to sway her ass as she did so. She could feel his eyes on it.

[*]

Bonnie adored the little cabin Deacon had reserved for them. It had a bedroom downstairs with a queen-size bed, heavy, dark, cherry furniture, and two beautiful landscape paintings on the walls. The master bathroom was spacious, and, though it had no tub, the shower was a walk-in with a tile floor and shower heads on _both ends_. "Look at that," Bonnie said. "No one has to get cold while sharing."

Deacon wiggled and eyebrow.

From the bedroom, a narrow, windy staircase lead to an upstairs loft that boasted a sunny living room and kitchenette as well as a balcony that overlooked the lake. They put aside the question of the contract for a couple of hours and went for a short swim, stroking all the way out through the warm, dark waters to where the buoys marked the end of the swimming section and then heading back.

"You're in good shape," Deacon told her when they were grabbing their towels by the shore. "I almost couldn't keep up with you."

"Well, Deacon, honey, I am _several_ years younger than you."

"No need to emphasize that."

She chuckled and dried her hair. "And I do work out regularly, you know, even if I'm not _sporty_."

He wrapped his towel in a U-around her hips and jerked her close to kiss her. Between kisses, he murmured, "Let's go back to the cabin so you can show me how _sporty_ you are."

[*]

Tami felt a bit under-dressed and was relieved to find two other couples wearing shorts. Still, she was glad she'd opted for a blouse instead of her tank top when they'd gotten dressed at the public showers on the beach.

"Tommy says this place has really great seafood," Eric told Tami. When he opened the menu, however, a look of silent horror crept over his face.

Tami knew why. The prices were about twenty percent higher than you might find at your typical neighborhood Chili's, and Chili's was where they went when they wanted to _splurge_ and get fancy. "We'll go dutch," she assured him.

"Nah, no, I've got it," he insisted. "This is a _special occasion_. And we're not staying all weekend after all, so I'll be spending less. It's fine. It's on me."

"You sure?" she asked doubtfully.

"Yeah! Order anything you want!"

Tami didn't insist on paying her half. Instead, she just said, "Thank you." She didn't want to offend him. But she only asked for water when the waitress came by for their drink orders.

"Tap or sparkling?" the waitress asked, and Tami quickly answered, "Tap!" because that would be free...she hoped.

Eric followed her lead and just got tap water as well.

After surveying the menu for a while, Tami asked, "Why don't we just split one of these dinners? They look so big. I don't think I can eat a whole one. They all come with a salad. We could just order an extra side salad and ask for an extra plate. What about the surf and turf?"

Eric took the lifeline she'd thrown him and agreed with a, "And we can always stop at a DQ for ice cream on the way home. We'll probably need to stop for the bathrooms anyway."

Her plan was partially foiled when the waitress told them there would be "an extra plate charge" and the salad, when ordered as a side, was an outrageous $3.99, which made their savings only $5 compared to if they had ordered an entire meal. Still, $5 was more than an hour's pay for either of them. Tami made a note to pretend to herself that it was the best steak and shrimp she'd ever had, no matter how mediocre it was. But she didn't _have_ to pretend. The food was fantastic. She was still humming when she took the last shrimp on the plate.

[*]

Bonnie insisted on trying out the "amazing shower" first. They ended up fooling around in the shower until the water turned cool, after which they finished making love in bed. Bonnie poked Deacon in the ribs when he started nodding off.

"Stop," he muttered.

"What time is our dinner reservation?" she asked.

He rolled over and looked at the clock. "Shit!" he cursed, and then apologized for cursing in front of her.

"I'm not made of delicate china, you know. A curse word won't shatter me. I know you swear like a sailor when it's just your fellow coaches."

He slid out of bed and yanked on a clean pair of boxers. "It's a sign of respect, Bonnie. Leave it to you to take my politeness as an insult." He pulled on a pair of dark pants now.

"Is this a suit and tie kind of place?" she asked.

"Well, it's not a jeans and t-shirt kind of place, anyway." He turned around as he slipped on a button-down shirt. As he buttoned up, she admired his muscular chest and had an urge to run her fingers through the black-and-gray hairs that curled down from his pectoral muscles into a fine trail that dipped into his pants.

"I'll put on a dress, then," she said.

He whistled once she had. "You look...you look lovely."

The place was lit by candles and dim, golden lights inside. Tables were lined with white table cloths and men in suits sat chatting at the bar. "Can we sit outside?" Bonnie asked.

They were led to the balcony overlooking the lake and given a spot that allowed her to watch the setting sun. The white lights strung over the canopy that shaded the porch came on just as the waiter handed Deacon the wine list.

"This is a very nice place," she told him when the waiter was gone, and for a happy, nervous, irritated, flustered, giddy moment, she wondered if he was going to officially propose. She hoped not. She would have to say no.

"Do you just want to split a bottle?" he asked. "They only have a few by the glass."

"Why not?" she asked. "We should celebrate your job offer, whether or not you end up taking it."

The waiter waited while Deacon sampled the wine they'd ordered before leaving them the bottle. Deacon titled the glass toward his nose, sniffed, swirled, tasted, and said, "It's very good," but when the waiter left, he said, "I hate that part. I never know what I'm supposed to do or say."

Bonnie chuckled. "Well, you're suppose to tell him if it tastes like it's turned to vinegar, I think." Bonnie ordered the fillet because - why not? Deacon clearly wanted to impress her this weekend, so she was determined to allow herself to be impressed. He got the porter house.

"Have you thought of letting Eric finish out his senior year in Euless while you go ahead and take the new coaching job?" she asked.

"What, _by himself_? In that huge house? While I get a cheap apartment?"

"No, not by _himself_." She cut into her succulent steak, which oozed red juices. "You could sell the house, but couldn't he stay with one of your assistant coaches? Just during the school year, and join you in McAllen for spring break and winter break and three-day weekends? Pay his rent by mowing their lawn and fixing things around the house or whatnot?"

Deacon appeared intrigued by the idea at first, but his face quickly grew resigned. "I couldn't. I already sent him away for months to his grandfather at the ranch. I don't think I should do something like that again. And I can't go to his games if he's not on my team. I have to go to the games I'm coaching. I wouldn't be there for him at all."

"That's true," she agreed, disappointed that what had seemed like a good idea to her a moment a go now seemed so ridiculous. But this was how Bonnie figured things out for herself - by talking through them aloud. "That wouldn't allow you to be an involved father. And you two have just begun to rebuild your relationship. You wouldn't want to jeopardize that now."

"No, I wouldn't. And, to be frank, I think at least _part_ of the reason they're so eager to recruit me is that they know I'll bring my son with me. Their quarterback broke his leg. Their second string isn't as good as Eric. Eric had a _consistently_ good record his freshman and sophomore year. It was a bit spotty his junior year, after his mother died, of course, but...colleges had their eye on him already in his sophomore year."

"They don't want you for your _son_ ," she assured him.

"Not _only_ for my son, no. Their old coach left them in a lurch. He broke his contract. With all those changes, the boosters are afraid the team, as good as it is, is going to fall apart. I have a reputation for bringing teams together, for taking whatever I've been given and improving it. They want to go forward, not back, and they think I can do that."

"That must make you proud, to know people have that kind of professional confidence in you."

"It's flattering, yes. And I'd like to prove their confidence well founded. But if I take this job, and I take Eric from Tami..." He shook his head. "He won't be happy with me. And if I go, you and I will rarely see each other. You'll find another man eventually."

"Do you really have that little confidence in my fidelity?" she asked.

"Let's face it. I'm not the kind of man you usually date."

"Let's face it. The kind of man I usually date hasn't been working out for me."

"Bonnie, you're so beautiful, outgoing, lively, fun...Men are going to be all over you once I'm gone."

"They're all over me _now_ ," she teased.

"I won't be around to beat them off."

"Deacon, you're handsome, confident, respectful, charming...potentially about to make _six figures_ , I might add. You don't think women are going to be all over you in south Texas?"

"I think I'm going to be too busy to notice," he said. "But it isn't just that...We'll drift apart. People do."

"If we do, then maybe it wasn't meant to be."

"I don't buy that," he said. "A relationship isn't something that just magically happens." He took a sip of his wine and then set down his glass. "I mean, maybe at first it is...at that initial infatuation point, but after a point, it has to be _maintained_."

"And are you done being infatuated with me?" she teased.

"Yes, Bonnie, I am. I've moved on to _loving_ you. I've made the initial investment, I've gone in whole hog, and now I'm at maintenance level."

She laughed. "So keeping me is more cost-efficient than trading me in on another model?"

"Oh, I don't know about that. You require _a lot_ of maintenance."

She set down her knife and fork and plucked up her wine glass. "Do I now?"

"I didn't say it wasn't _worth_ it." He smirked. "I very much like the ride."

"I have a strange urge to throw this glass of wine in your face."

"You're the one who created this monster, you know. I didn't joke like this before I met you."

She smiled. Bonnie suspected he had, sometimes, with his late wife, though she didn't say so. Instead she asked, "What's the quality of the school there? _Academically_ , I mean?"

"Not quite as good as Bowie High, but not at all _bad_ either. It's a big school. They have all the advanced classes available they have here. But the standards are probably a bit lower. On the other hand, with somewhat lower standards, Eric would graduate with a higher class rank."

"How's the volleyball team and the cheerleading program?"

"They're both great, but what's that got to do with anything?"

Bonnie shrugged, smiled, and sipped her wine.

Deacon's lip twitched slightly. "Would you actually consider marrying me and moving down there?"

"Not _marrying_ you..." she said. "Not _yet_. Like I said, I don't think it's a good idea for Tami and Eric to be in the same house, and I think you and I need more time to date. But I've been thinking maybe I should finish off my psychology degree. I was only one semester short when I left college. And I believe UT-PanAmerica has very low tuition."

He grinned. "That's in Edinburg. That's just twenty minutes from McAllen."

"And like you said, cost of living is lower there. I might not be able to get as many clients, but I'd have fewer bills to pay, and working less would leave me more time for school. I could find a little house for me and the girls somewhere in McAllen and commute to the university."

"I'm liking this idea very much."

"We'd have to move quickly. School starts soon. I'd of course have to clear it with my sister. I'd be taking her children farther from her. And it's quite a bit, jostling Tami to a new school and a new home _yet again_. Shelley hasn't _started_ school here yet, so it wouldn't be as big a change for her. I think we need to solicit the opinions of the kids."

"Kids don't get to make these decisions."

"No, but we should solicit their _opinions_ ," she insisted. "Let them know their opinions are at least considered. I think we should all sit down to dinner after Tami and Eric come home Sunday evening and talk this out."

Deacon nodded. "Fair enough." He raised his wine glass. "To possibility."

She smiled and clinked.


	55. Chapter 55

Eric was grinning when he pulled into the empty church parking lot, in the far corner, beneath the magnolia tree, switched off the engine, and rolled down the windows to let in the summer night breeze. He couldn't see much as they crawled into the back seat, other than Tami's eyes, twinkling mischievously in the moonlight.

Lips locked and clothes came partially off - not too far - in case a quick getaway was required. Besides, Tami was still pretty modest about that, but he got her bra undone beneath her shirt and enjoyed the perfect feel of her bare breasts in the palms of his hands. Soon enough, his hand was slipped into her underwear and her sighs turned into pants and then soft moans. Her quiet shuddering almost did him in. "My turn?" he asked hopefully when her trembling had subsided, and she unsnapped the top of his shorts and yanked down the zipper. It didn't take long. He moaned her name against her neck when he came into her palm, and she grabbed the beach towel from the floor to clean him up.

"Ow," he said. "Sand."

"Oh, so sorry!"

He took the towel from her and found a sand-free portion before tucking himself back in and buttoning and zipping up. His head now against the triangle of glass before the open window, and one leg up on the console between the two front seats, Eric waved to Tami to cuddle in. She did, laying her head on his chest.

Eric laughed. "That was great, wasn't it? I mean, except the sand at the end."

"It was pretty great," she agreed. "You're going to have to pull your t-shirt down to cover that wet spot."

"It's fine. My dad'll be asleep when we get back anyway."

She kissed him, pulled back, and studied his eyes in the shimmering light from the sky that seeped through the open windows. "I love you. Thank you for today. For...understanding."

"I love you too, Tami. I really do." He smiled almost shyly.

"It's almost midnight. We better get home. I told my aunt by midnight in that message."

"It's getting real hot in here anyway," he said.

She giggled. "Well, it was pretty hot a couple minutes ago."

They crawled between the seats one by one and Eric drove on. Eric's house was completely dark except for a single lamp on the kitchen desk. The porch light was out. "Guess I should have called ahead so he'd leave it on so I could see the lock. I'm going to be trying to stick it in for five minutes."

Tami snorted. "You're always trying to stick it in."

"Hey! Not true."

"I'm teasing."

Tami's porch light was on, however. "You don't have to walk me to the door," she said.

He waited curbside, to make sure she got inside before pulling onto his own house. The carport was strangely empty, so he pulled into it rather than parking along the curb. Where was his father's truck? Had something happened? Was it in the shop?

Eric got out of his car and started trying to jam his key into the lock in the darkness. He got it in more quickly than he anticipated and walked inside.

The radio was playing. It was tuned to the classical music station. That's what Dad did whenever they went out of town. He left the kitchen desk lamp on and the radio playing. Eric made fun of him for it - as if a radio would foil robbers - but when he had his own home, he would end up doing the same thing.

"Dad?" Eric shouted. "Are you home?" He checked his father's bedroom and found it empty and the bed neatly made. When he got back to the kitchen, the phone was ringing. He picked it up.

"Hey," came Tami's voice on the other end. "My aunt and Shelley aren't here. And my message was on the answering machine unplayed."

"Yeah, my dad's gone too."

"Think it was the rapture?" Tami joked.

"No. I mean, why would Shelley be gone then?"

Tami laughed.

"My dad's truck is gone," he said.

"My aunt's car is here. They must have gone somewhere together. Like, a ten o'clock movie or something?"

"I don't think they're coming back tonight," Eric said. "My dad left the radio on. He only does that when we're going away overnight. And Shelley's not there?"

There was silence on the other end of the line for awhile, some shuffling, and then Tami's voice again: "I think Shelley might be staying at a friend's. There's a name and a phone number written on a pad here, and an address in Dallas, and it says _pick up 12:30 PM Sunday_. _Sharon._ I'll call tomorrow at a more decent hour and see if Shelley's there."

"So we came all the way back here," Eric said, "drove ten hours in one day, so we wouldn't be without parental supervision, and now we're without parental supervision?"

"Yeah."

"So you wanna come over?"

"No!" she said through her laugh.

"Hey, it's their fault for packing up and leaving."

"I think I'm just going to hit the hay," Tami told him. "I'm really tired."

"A'ight. Sleep tight."

Before she hung up, though, Tami said, "Where do you think they went?"

"Maybe they went to the beach to spy on us."

"That doesn't sound like my aunt. They're probably on a romantic getaway."

"I don't want to think about my dad on a _romantic getaway_ ," he said.

"Then don't."

"I won't."

"Goodnight, Eric."

"Night, Tami."

[*]

Eric fell sleep on the couch watching TV, with a bottle of cream soda open on the end table beside him, and a bag half eaten chips. Hey, Dad wasn't hear to lecture him about staying in "football shape."

The ringing of the living room phone awoke him. He stretched across the couch to grab the receiver off the phone on the other end table and glanced at the clock on the wall as he did it. 2:05 AM. "Hello?" he answered groggily.

"I'm scared," Tami said. "I heard some strange noises outside the house. Like a rattling at the window. What if someone's trying to break in?"

"Be right over."

Eric hastily went to his father's closet in the bedroom. He stretched his hands up and rooted around on the shelf until he had the shotgun in his grasp. Then he pulled down the box of shells. Eric loaded one shell, and then he dropped three more in the pockets of his shorts, but he didn't pump the shotgun yet. If there _was_ an intruder, just the sound of a shotgun pumping might scare him away. That's what his dad had always told him, anyway.

He crept around Tami's house shotgun in hand, but didn't see anything, except the branches of a tree scraping one of the windows. He came to the kitchen door and knocked. A light went on. Tami was holding a softball bat at her side, which she set against the counter when she spied him through the window. She let him in. He locked the door beside himself, unloaded the shotgun, slipped the shell in his pocket, and then propped the gun up in the corner of the kitchen, against the hutch. "I think it was just a tree scraping the window."

She sighed with relief. "Sorry for being silly. Sorry for waking you."

"It's okay. Good to be cautious. There was that break in on Elm street a month ago."

She nodded to the shotgun. "Do you even know how to use that?"

"Of course I do! What do you think I am, a pansy?"

"Well, _I've_ never shot a gun."

"Never?" Eric asked.

Tami shook her head.

"Well, then I'll take you to the range next weekend. It can be a date."

"Sounds romantic."

"It'll be fun. I mean, I'm not an expert or anything. I'm not really much of a marksman, but I can get it on the target. I can show you how." He came a little further into the kitchen. "Why do you have a softball bat?"

"Shelley plays. Well, she _wants_ to play."

"I thought she wanted to cheerlead," Eric said.

"She wants to do both. Cheerlead in the fall for football and in the winter for basketball, and play softball in the spring."

"Bowie's softball team sucks," he said.

"I know. So she'll probably make it."

Eric laughed. Tami hugged herself. "Now I'm all keyed up. Will you stay for awhile? Watch TV or something?"

"TV's off the air. It's all fuzz now." Neither of them had cable.

"Oh. Yeah."

"But I'll stay as long as you want. We could play Atari. Or a board game. Or..." he smiled. "I don't know. Make out?"

"We're not making out alone in this house. That's probably going to lead somewhere I'm not quite ready to go."

He chewed on his bottom lip to bite down his smile. That must mean she _half_ wanted to go there. Or at least her _body_ wanted to go there.

"Risk or Monopoly?" she asked.

"Risk. Got a little adrenaline jolt from chasing that imaginary robber. I feel like conquering the world now."

She smiled. "You're such a goof." She jerked open the fridge, offered him a Diet Coke, and then led him to the living room.

They played Risk for about half an hour, and then they just kind of lay on their sides on either side of the board, talking. When Tami fell asleep in the middle of one of his sentences, he carried her to her bedroom and tucked her in, and then he lay down on the living room couch, pulled the afghan off of it, tucked a throw pillow under his head, and was soon snoozing away.


	56. Chapter 56

Bonnie ran her fingers lazily through the hairs of Deacon's chest. He wrapped one of the strands of her red hair tightly around a finger tip and then let it unwind. The morning sun seeped through the blinds and painted soft patterns on the rumpled white sheets. The comforter was half on the floor. She'd woken up this morning to soft kisses on the back of her neck, and turned to find a very erect, naked man in her bed. They'd made love slowly and leisurely as if enjoying a particularly good morning stretch, but one with a nice little pop at the end. She was feeling quite satisfied. "This is lovely."

"It is, isn't?" he asked. "Waking up in the same bed together. Just think if we could do it _every_ morning."

"Deacon," she said in a warning tone. "You promised."

"I'm merely stating a _fact_." He kissed the top of her head and then eased himself up to sit against the headboard. Clasping the sheet over her chest, she sat up halfway facing him.

"When's breakfast?" she asked. "Is it one of those sit with other people things?"

"In forty minutes. And yes. But I can have it brought in if you prefer."

"No, I think I want to show off what a hunk of a boyfriend I have to the strangers staying here."

He chuckled.

"Besides, I like talking to people."

"This I know." He put a hand on her shoulder and slid it gently down and then up her arm again. "Listen, I called a realtor down there in McAllen when I first got the contract, just to get an idea of housing prices. Not because I thought I'd _actually_ be going, but...just... to know. In case. And she told me about this lovely little duplex. The whole thing's for sale. Each side has three bedrooms, one half bath, and one full bath. But I can afford the mortgage. I could buy it, and then you could be my neighbor on the other side. I could rent it out to you. Cheaply. It would save you money for that university program."

"Deacon, we can't discuss all that until we know for sure if I'm going."

His hand fell away from her arm. "I thought we more or less _did_ know for sure?"

"I said I would _consider_ the possibility. I want to talk to the girls first. And my sister. It wasn't a _promise_. _And_ we said we'd both talk about it with the kids Sunday. Do you recall that part of the conversation?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I'm just saying - if we all end up going..." He smiled a little weakly. "It's a _possibility_."

She smiled back and kissed him before sliding out of bed. "I'm taking a quick shower."

"Want some company?"

"Not this time. We have a breakfast to get to."

[*]

When Tami awoke in her bed, she was suddenly startled, because the last thing she remembered was taking over Australia. Still clothed, she made her way cautiously out of her bedroom and found Eric sleeping on the couch, his hair adorably askew, his body a bit long for the furniture. He was curled up on his side like a baby.

Tami went to make him some coffee. Perhaps her noise in the kitchen woke him, because he stumbled in rubbing his eyes. "Hey."

"Hey yourself," she said. "Thanks for putting me to bed last night. And thanks for staying in case that imaginary robber came back."

He smiled. "I was afraid you might be mad I stayed."

She shook her head. "Why would I?"

He shrugged. "You seem really concerned about impressions. Me staying all night...what kind of impression is that going to leave on your aunt?"

"Well, I haven't broken any promises to her. I never promised I wouldn't let you sleep on the couch if I can home and found the house empty at midnight." She poured him a cup of coffee. "You like milk, right?"

"A little." He'd be drinking his coffee black in another two years, but he hadn't quite learned to do that yet. Tami put three spoonfuls of sugar in hers, along with the milk.

They went back to the living room and resumed their half-finished game of Risk. Eric sat cross-legged on the floor, dice in one hand, coffee in the other. "I guess we could have just stayed at the beach and had more fun." He rolled. "Are you going to call that number on the pad and see if Shelley is there and if she knows where your aunt is?"

Tami rolled her defensive dies. "When it's _later_. I'm not calling at 9 on a Saturday."

Eric took away two of her armies in Quebec. "Well, if I'm home, I should probably see if I can pick up a shift at the DQ. I could sure use the money. Then maybe we can do something tonight? A movie?"

Tami smiled before she rolled to defend herself again. "I'd like that."

[*]

Eric tipped his hat up when Tami came to the DQ counter and leaned her hip against the orange wood. It was 7 PM, and he was supposed to get off work now, but his relief hadn't come yet. "I was hoping for something sweet," she said.

"Yeah?" He grinned. "I can give you a little sugar."

Tami leaned in and gave him a leisurely kiss.

"Does that come free with the ice cream?" someone behind her asked.

Tami turned to see a girl she knew vaguely from her English class.

"Because if I knew that, I'd have been here _every day_ ," the girl said. "Hey, Eric."

"Hey, Carolyn," Eric said back.

Tami looked from one to the other. "You two know each other well?" she asked. Of course, what she really wanted to know was if Eric had ever fooled around with this Carolyn, but all Eric said was, "She goes to our school."

"I was in your English class," Carolyn said.

"I know," Tami said. "I remember." A little flustered, she ordered a Diet Coke just to order something and told Eric she'd wait outside until he "got off." Then she felt weird for saying "get off" because Carolyn was chuckling as she stepped forward to order.

Tami was down to the last few cubes of melting ice in her cup when Eric came out with an orange tray in his hand containing two burgers, a large fry, and a soda. He sat down across from her. "Got you a burger with lettuce and tomato. Is that right?"

"I actually had dinner at home. But I'll have some fries." She snaked one out of the container and popped it into her mouth. "Sorry you bought it for me."

"Eh. I get a 25% discount, you know." He unwrapped one bruger and took a big bite. "So, you find out where they are?" he asked between bites.

"I called that number on the pad. I talked to Shelley. She's spending the weekend with her friend in Dallas. She doesn't know _where_ our aunt is, but she said she did know she was going away for the weekend and she's picking up Shelley on the way back, so...they won't be home until tomorrow."

"Wow. _Two_ parent-free houses."

"Did I hear someone say party?" asked a big, hulky Hispanic kid as he eased his ten-speed bike to a stop beside their table and slid heavily off of it.

"Hey, Gordo," Eric said. "No. No party. I'm on probation still as far as my dad is concerned."

"Shame to let an empty house go to waste, man." He held his hand out for Eric to clasp in a clap-like shake. Gordo smiled at Tami. "This your girlfriend of the hour?"

Eric frowned. "This is my _steady_ girl. Tami, this is Gordo. Gordo, Tami. Gordo's a linebacker."

"Nice to meet you," Gordo told her.

"That's not your _real_ name, is it?" Tami asked.

"No, it's Tomas. But Gordo's what everyone calls me." He peered into the DQ. "Carolyn's in there alone."

"Yeah," Eric said.

"Do you mind if I uh...put the suave moves on her?"

Eric laughed. "Go right ahead. Good luck, man." Before Gordo went in, he said, "Hey, got an extra burger. Want it?"

Gordo snagged the burger with a thanks and disappeared inside. Tami tapped her straw inside her now empty cup. "Why did he ask for your permission?"

"What?"

"Your permission? To make a move on Carolyn. Were you two together or something?"

Eric shrugged. "Not _together_ , together. We...went out a couple times. Did some stuff."

"What stuff?"

"Just stuff."

Tami leveled her eyes at him.

"You really want details?" he asked.

"No," she admitted. She stood and tossed her cup in the trash.

He came over and stood by her bike in the rack. "I'll throw this in the back. We'll drop it off before we go to the movie."

"More than we've done?" Tami asked.

"What?"

"You and Carolyn. Did y'all do more than we've done?"

"Come on," Eric said. "You really want to know all that?"

"Yes."

He swallowed. "Yeah then."

She sighed. "Turns out I didn't want to know that." She crouched down and undid the chain around her bike.

Eric took over the bike and rolled it toward his car. "We didn't go all the way, if that makes a difference."

"So she gave you a blow job?"

"Tami! Come on."

"Never mind. Never mind. It's just, if it was _more_ than us and _not_ all the way...that's what she did. Because I haven't done that yet."

"You're one hell of a detective." He jerked open the back door of his car and shoved the bike in. It barely fit, and he had to maneuver the wheel to be able to shut the door.

She got in silently, but when he was driving, she asked, "Were you two serious?"

" _No_. I told you. I only ever had one serious girlfriend before you. Carolyn was in my mad-at-the-world phase. I'm not in that place anymore, okay?" He put a hand over hers. "I'm in a better place. With you."

"Next year's going to be really awkward." Tami hadn't really thought about how awkward until this moment. "We've basically just been hanging out with each other all summer. I haven't seen you in your element...in school...on the field...and now I'm going to. With all these girls throwing themselves at you."

"Carolyn wasn't _throwing_ herself at me."

"She said she'd come every day if she got a kiss from you," Tami observed.

"She was just talking. She doesn't even like me that much."

"She liked you enough to blow you," Tami said.

He sighed. "Look, I don't know what to say here to make you not upset, so I'm just not going to say anything at all. I don't get all weird around Mo."

"You two got in a _fight_ over me," she reminded him.

"That was _him_. He was the one who wanted to take it outside."

"Sorry," she muttered. "I'm sorry. I just...I don't know. I don't like thinking about it. All the girls you fooled around with. And I feel kind of bad now."

"Bad? What the hell for?"

"Just thinking...here I am...your _steady_ girlfriend, and I still haven't..." She shrugged. "I haven't done for you what Carolyn did."

He pulled to a stop outside of her house. She got out and locked her bike up before getting back in the car to go onto the movie. He looked at her warily and nervously, and drove on silently.

The tension relaxed during the movie, and Tami cuddled in, lacing her arms around one of his and settling her head on his shoulder. It was a comedy, and they laughed a lot. When they got back to their house, he parked along the curb between their two driveways. "Want me to stay?" he asked. "On the couch, I mean? In case there are robbers?"

She chuckled. "Yeah. I'd kind of appreciate that. And...if you want...I could...you know."

"Know what?"

"Give you a blow job."

He blinked. He laughed. He licked his lips and laughed again, a cute, happy, nervous laugh. But then his smile faded. "Is this because of Carolyn?"

"We've been dating all summer. It's probably time."

"Time," he repeated. "So you feel _obligated_?"

"No. Yes. I don't know, Eric! I _want_ to, but I also want to take it slow. Sometimes I'm just so horny I just want to go all the way with you. And sometimes I think, I'm so young...and I regret so much losing my virginity, and this time I just want...I don't know!"

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "Okay. Well...that wasn't very helpful."

She threw her head back against the head stand. "I know."

"So...since you don't _know_ , I'm gonna make a call here and say no to the blow job."

"What?"

He shrugged. "I think _the time_ this is not the _right time_. As much as I'd _love_ it. I think..." He nodded. "Let's wait on that. Until it's, you know, it's not _time_ anymore."

She laughed. "Not time."

He laughed too. "Yeah, _not_ time. Let's do it when it's _not_ time."

"Okay." She jerked her head toward the house. "But you still want to make out some?"

"Oh yeah."

She laughed and scurried out of the car, and he chased her to the door. Kisses on the couch turned to dry humping, which gave Tami some relief but left Eric wanting, so she unbuttoned and unzipped his shorts and slipped a hand inside. She lay half on top of him later, as he panted to recover his breath. "I love you," he whispered. "You know that?"

"Yeah. You know how?"

"Hmmm?"

She kissed his ear. "You treat me right."

Eric went back to his house to get washed up and changed before coming back over to hers. As he was planning to sleep there, he showed up in sweats and a T-shirt. She'd chosen similar pajamas. They played some Atari, but Tami kept yawning, so he urged her to bed.

Tami asked if he wanted to "cuddle" with her for awhile. Once they were in her bed and under the covers together, predictably enough cuddling turned into kissing and kissing turned to stroking. Soon enough, their shirts were littering the floor, and Eric's hands were all over her breasts. She explored the rippling muscles of his arms, shoulders and back, and traced his abdomen. It was like they couldn't get enough of each other. She'd known this would happen when she invited him to cuddle, but she invited him anyway. It was like she was trying to keep her left hand from knowing what her right hand was doing. Soon, his head was disappearing beneath the covers. His warm mouth trailed kisses all over her breasts, leaving her hot and needy and aching. He disappeared completely under the covers, and she felt her sweat pants and panties tugged down, down, and then left at her ankles.

Her cheeks flushed red, but she couldn't bring herself to tell him to stop as his lips touched the inside of her leg and worked their way up, parting her legs as he moved. He was inching up slowly -very slowly - giving her plenty of time to tell him to stop, but she couldn't.

Tami gasped in pleased shock and gripped the thick strands of his hair when he was between her legs. This was something she'd never experienced before, and she didn't know what she was supposed to do, so she just _felt_ it - with whimpers and rolls of her hips and gasps and finally a moaning shudder. His head emerged from beneath the blanket and he breathed in the fresh air. Reeling from the pleasure, and feeling simultaneously embarrassed, uncertain, and excited, she frantically reached below the blanket to pull her sweats and panties back up to her waist. He kissed her shoulder and then her ear, smelling of her. "You like it?"

"Mhmmh." She nodded, but couldn't quite look him in the eyes, even in the dim light of the moon and the stars filtering through her blinds.

"Good. Wasn't sure if I'd be any good at it."

"You've never...with _anyone_?"

"Nah. Not that." He took her hand and placed it over the top of his sweat pants, on his erection. She expected him to ask for a reciprocal blowjob, but instead he said, "You're wet. Touch yourself to make your fingers wet first before touching me."

Shyly, she slipped her hand into the waistband of her sweats and did what he asked, and then she stroked him while he played with her breasts. Soon, he was groaning into her neck and shuddering into her palm.

For a long time, they didn't say anything. They just held each other. Eventually, Eric said, "Was it time for what I did to you? Or not time? You seemed to want it."

Tami let out a laugh that was a little nervous and a little relieved and mostly happy. "I liked it. A _lot_."

"Good."

"Now we're all messy again."

"Want to take a shower together?" he asked.

"No. We'll end up having sex. And I..."

"I get it." He kissed her cheek. "Want me to run home and change and come back again? Sleep on the couch so we don't...uh...accidentally end up having sex?"

She laughed and blushed. "I can't help it if you're tempting."

When he smiled, his eyes twinkled in the moonlight. "Good to know I am tempting." He slid out of her bed. "Be back in twenty minutes."

Tami never made it to the shower. She closed her eyes for just a minute after he left and woke up when the sunrise flooded the room.


	57. Chapter 57

Eric had returned and stayed the night. Tami found him sleeping on the couch, one foot up on the arm, because he was all stretched out and a little too tall. She kissed him awake. He squirmed at first but eventually sat up and rubbed his eyes. The afghan fell off of him and pooled in a green and white puddle on the floor. She settled in next to him, and he draped an arm around her. "Mornin'," he drawled.

She smiled. "Good morning."

He nodded on and off as she rested her head on his shoulder. After a while, she whispered, "Have you really never done that to a girl before? What you did last night?"

He shook his head. She was having trouble keeping her smile controlled. She'd felt terribly inexperienced compared to him, and maybe there was a part of her that was jealous too, jealous that they would never share something he hadn't already shared with some other girl. But last night, they _had_.

"It was good, right?" he asked, sounding suddenly alarmed, his beautiful, hazel eyes now wide open.

"Yeah! It was great."

He smile and looked relieved.

"I've never done that either," she told him. "I mean, _either_ way."

"What do you mean, either way?"

"Like...I've never _given_ a blowjob either. Mo and I didn't go that far. And that mistake I made...that was straight to it. So..." She shrugged. "In a way, to me, that's really intimate, you know? I mean, I guess maybe it's more than third base for me? It's just...I'm not sure...it's not just a stepping stone. Like...I'm not making any sense, am I?"

"Yeah. You're making perfect sense. You're afraid that after last night I'm going to want tit for tat. But you don't want to give me a blowjob."

She flushed at his directness. "It's not that I don't _want_ to..."

"You aren't ready to."

"I don't know," she admitted. "I don't know if I am."

"Okay."

"Really?" Tami's muscles unwound with relief.

"Tami, I'm not pushing you to do something you aren't comfortable with. I _love_ you."

She leaned in and kissed him softly. He pressed his forehead against hers and she caressed his cheek. "I think maybe I'm afraid of not doing it right," she admitted. "Since I've never done it before."

He raised his eyes slightly to hers. "I don't think there's really a right or a wrong."

"What if I like...gag or something?"

"Then we'll stop. Or pause."

"Pause?"

"Look, you don't have to do it, Tami. We can go straight to sex." She pulled back and he hastened, "I mean, not today! When you're ready. Sex isn't _actually_ baseball. We don't _have_ to run all the bases before we go home."

"I _know_ that. I didn't with that other guy. I just jumped right into it. That was dumb. And not good."

"Well, we can still get home slowly without stopping at all the bases. We just...jog...slower."

She laughed. She loved the way that whenever she was tense and embarrassed he said something goofy to make her feel relieved. "I love you, Eric."

"I love you, too."

"This is different, isn't it?" she asked. "Different than most high school relationships?"

He studied her eyes. "I had a serious girlfriend once, but we weren't really friends. Like this. I mean...you're my best friend. I've told you things I've never told anyone. You helped me through a really crappy time in my life. I try to think of life without you, and it just seems _weird_. It just seems like...I wouldn't be... _me_ anymore." He laughed and shook his head. "Now I'm the one not making any sense."

"You're adorable." She kissed him. His responsive return made her eager for more closeness, and she pressed her body against his. She was practically straddling him when the front door came open.

Tami flew to the opposite side of the couch. She didn't think her aunt saw them. She was busy juggling a bag while opening the door. But when she walked in, Aunt Bonnie blinked curiously, shut the door behind herself, left he bag in the foyer, and walked down the hall toward the living room. "You two are back earlier than you planned." She looked down at the afghan pooled on the floor. "Eric, did you sleep here last night?"

Eric looked frantically at Tami.

"We came back Friday night at midnight," Tami said. "Because there was a total misunderstanding and there was no adult in that house and I promised you there would be and I wanted to be honest and I left you a message and you can listen to it on the answering machine, but you weren't here when we got home and I was scared so Eric slept on the couch." The words rattled out of her like a steam engine. She didn't want her aunt to think she and Eric had been having sex together in an empty house even though...well...they kind of had been. Oral sex. On her. In her own bed. Her face felt like it was burning up.

"Okay," her aunt said slowly. "Well, I'm glad you chose to keep your word and not stay in a house without an adult supervising, but..." She looked around the house. "Then you did?"

"You weren't here!" Tami shouted.

"Fair enough," Aunt Bonnie replied.

"And why are you back so early? Shelley said you were picking her up at noon."

"I came home first to drop off my stuff." She looked at Eric. "Your father dropped me off and then went straight to his office. I don't think he's expecting you until later. He's working until five."

"Yes, ma'am." Eric stood up from the couch. "I better get going. I think I need to mow the lawn. Or something. Bye, Tami."

He was scurrying away when Aunt Bonnie called after him, "We're all having dinner together tonight. Six o'clock. Here."

Eric turned around. "Yes, ma'am."

"We have something important we want to discuss with y'all."

Eric turned a little white and Tami tensed. Were they going to get a dinner lecture about spending the night alone in this house?

"Something having nothing do with this," Aunt Bonnie said as she waved back and forth between them.

When Eric left the house, Tami said, defensively, "We didn't do anything! I mean, we didn't do anything...much." Her face just kept getting hotter.

"I gathered," she replied calmly. "He was clearly sleeping on the couch. But, Tami, honey, if you really want to avoid temptation, you need to set some more boundaries for yourself. Having a boy sleep in your house at night when you're there alone with him - "

"- I was scared! I heard weird noises. He was trying to make me feel safe."

"Well that was very nice of him. I'm sure he wanted to make you feel safe. I'm equally sure he hoped for other things to transpire while he was making you feel safe."

"Eric's not like that!"

"Of course Eric's like that, honey. I didn't say there was anything _wrong_ with it. But, Tami, listen," she sat down on the couch next to her. "Whatever brakes are on this relationship, you're going to have to put them on. Boys don't put on the brakes. Eric's a good kid. He's not going to gun the accelerator when you put on the brakes. But _you_ have to be the one to put on the brakes."

"Whatever," Tami told her.

Her aunt blinked. "I don't like that dismissive response."

"Sorry. Okay. Okay. Advice noted." She wasn't about to tell her aunt that Eric had actually been the one to put on the brakes when she offered him that blow job last night out of a feeling of guilt.

Aunt Bonnie patted her knee. "I'm proud of you," she said. "I'm proud you for honoring your word and coming back home when there was no adult there. I'm sorry I wasn't home for you."

"It's okay. You didn't know it was going happen. And I guess you want _your_ unsupervised time with Eric's dad."

Aunt Bonnie took her hand off Tami's knee. "I'm an _adult_. I don't require supervision."

"But you two aren't married. That's all I'm saying. My mother would _not_ approve."

Aunt Bonnie laughed. "Well, your mother does not approve of a _lot_ of things."

Tami laughed too. Then she caught her aunt's mischievous green eyes and said, "I'm glad I'm living with you, Aunt Bonnie. I'm glad my mom let me." Then her face grew less happy. "Do you think she'll get better? My mom?"

"She's getting help," Aunt Bonnie assured her.

"That's not what I asked."

"Your mom's had a rough upbringing."

"So did you," Tami said.

"And she had a rough time with your father. Rougher than you know, maybe. And she's having a rough time now. But she's working a better job, she's getting some time to work on herself, and one day, when you're all grown up, and you have a family of your own...I think you too will have an amicable relationship. A little distant maybe, but amicable."

"I feel like an orphan," Tami admitted, and suddenly tears that were nowhere on the horizon were welling in her eyes.

"I know you do, honey." Her aunt hugged her. "But you have family that loves you."

"I know." Tami cried into her aunt's shoulder for a little while before she pulled away wiping her eyes. "I think I'm going to take a shower and get dressed."

Aunt Bonnie nodded. "I need to unpack."

They both stood and disappeared down the hall toward their bedrooms.

[*]

Bonnie made her best lasagna for dinner and opened a bottle of wine for her and Deacon to share while the kids had sweet tea. Between dinner and dessert she glanced at Deacon and he glanced back at her. She looked from Tami to Eric to Shelley. "Kids," she announced. "We have something we'd like to hear your opinion on."

The discussion did not go anywhere near as smoothly as Bonnie had expected. She was a little rattled by how quickly it descended into chaos. Eric was angry his father was even considering "abandoning the team." He looked across the table at Deacon in disbelief. "This is as close as we have ever been to State, and you're just going to walk away from your team? You send me away to the ranch, and now you want to send me somewhere else?"

"I wouldn't be _sending_ you, son!" Deacon said gruffly. "We'd be going together."

"Eric," Bonnie attempted calmly. "Your father realizes it's asking a lot of you, but you have to understand what an exceptional opportunity - "

Eric ignored her, interrupted her, and continued his rant at his father. "Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to get settled in on that team again after you sent me away? I'm over halfway to being really in with these guys again, and now you want me to do it all over again on some other team? What, I'm supposed to show up just a few days before the very first game and instantly click with all of them?"

Shelley was even more horrified by the suggestion of moving than was Eric. "I just moved here less than three months ago!" she whined "I just got settled! I've made friends at cheerleading camp! I'll know people in school next year. I won't know _anyone_ in McAllen!"

Tami was the only one who didn't erupt in outburst. She mostly just seemed surprised. "I like it here," she said relatively calmly. "I don't really want to move."

Deacon sighed. He buried his hand in his thick, dark, lightly graying hair and shook his head. "Well that's that," he announced loudly. The chair scraped back. He tossed his napkin on his empty plate and stood. "I'll go home and make the call and tell them no. I thought one day I could work my way up to coaching college ball, but..." He shook his head. "Never mind. I'll just stay here. I'll just keep treading water in Euless." He left through the kitchen door.


	58. Chapter 58

Shelly's blonde hair shook as the door shut a second time. "Geez louise! What were they _thinking_?" She stood up and cleared her plate to the sink before disappearing. In the living room, the television went on.

Eric took in a deep breath. Looking at the decorative cookie cutters that hung on the kitchen wall, he shook his head. They were alone at the table now, because Tami's aunt had followed Eric's dad to his house. "Well, at least he's not going through with it," Eric muttered.

Tami was silent. She picked at something under her nail. "This job sounds like a really good opportunity for your dad," she said quietly.

Eric's head jerked toward her. "You don't want to move."

"No," she agreed. "I don't. I just...maybe you were a little hard on him. About the whole traitor to the team thing."

"You're defending my _dad_ on this?"

Tami shrugged. "My aunt said it was a really good offer. A stepping stone, maybe, to coaching college ball, which is something he always wanted to do. And it pays really well. It's a now or never sort of thing. And I totally get where you're coming from. I don't like the idea of packing up and moving _again_. But, I just think...you know, he's giving something up. Something big. Maybe you should realize that."

Eric threw his napkin on his plate. He looked like he was about to scrape back the chair and stand up in anger, but instead he rubbed his forehead. "Yeah," he muttered. "Yeah. I guess you're right."

Tami didn't want to move to another town and school yet again, but one advantage of doing so would be that they could _both_ start over in a different school, where Eric hadn't fooled around with half a dozen girls. Or a dozen. Or however many it had been. She'd never asked for an exact number. "He also said the team would be a good opportunity for you, that they have a lot of resources, that they might make it to State next season."

" _We_ might make it to state next season! _My_ team. The team I'm on _now_. But we sure as hell won't if my dad isn't coaching."

"Okay," she said quietly.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to yell. I'm not mad at you."

"I know."

He leaned back in his chair and put his hands on his knees. " _You_ don't want to move, right?"

"It would be hard, starting over again. But...I have only three good friends here, and you're one of them. Your dad did say their volleyball team is like ten times better than Bowie's. And my aunt could actually afford to take off time from work to finish her college degree down there because the tuition and cost of living are so cheap."

"So you _do_ want to move?"

"No. I just don't think it would be the end of the world if it happened. And I don't want to be the reason my aunt doesn't accomplish what she wants to accomplish either."

"So they've made _us_ the bad guys," Eric muttered. "Great. Why couldn't they just decide not to do it without talking to us about it? Now we're supposed to feel guilty. Well I'm not going to!" Now he did scrape back his chair and stand up.

Tami stood up, too, pushed her chair in, and picked up her plate and Eric's. After she set them in the sink she turned to face him on the other side of the counter. "I don't think they did it to make us feel guilty," she said. "I think they really wanted to know how we felt about it. Obviously, your opinion matters to your dad, because he's over there right now making a phone call to turn down the best opportunity of his career."

Eric had been tracing the pattern in the counter top, and his finger froze. "Shit. Now I _do_ feel guilty."

"Sorry. I don't mean to make you feel bad. I just think you should cut your dad some slack."

Eric pushed himself off the counter top. "Maybe I better go talk to him. Without all the yelling."

"Maybe," Tami agreed.

[*]

Deacon looked at Bonnie's hand over the receiver she'd just slammed down. "You still have 24 hours before you have to answer," she told him.

"I think the answer is abundantly clear. Take your hand off the phone."

"No."

"Bonnie - "

"No. Deacon, you _want_ this. I can _see_ how much you want this."

He sighed and leaned back against the kitchen desk before crossing his arms over his chest. "What I want is irrelevant."

"What does that mean?"

Deacon's broad shoulders rose and fell. "I didn't want my wife to die. I didn't want to be a single father. I didn't want to have to hold things together. I didn't want Eric to go off the deep end. I didn't want to fall so damn hard for you, and I didn't want you to refuse to marry me. I don't want to give up this job. But what _I_ want isn't relevant. It never has been."

"Well, I'm sorry you feel that way. But it _is_ relevant, Deacon. It matters. Maybe you won't end up taking this job, but what you want for your life _is_ relevant and there are people who care about your happiness. Me, for one."

"Not my son."

"He's seventeen."

"He -" Deacon fell silent because Eric was opening the kitchen door.

"Hey, Dad. Can we...uh..." he glanced at Bonnie. "Talk?"

"Call me later," Bonnie said, kissed Deacon's cheek, and vanished out the door.

[*]

They sat now at the kitchen table. Eric's father ran a finger over the condensed liquid that had gathered outside his beer bottle, while Eric took a slow, silent sip of his Coke.

Eric rested the Coke can on the light brown wood of the table top. "So...how badly do you want this job?"

His father put a finger in the opening of the bottle. Anything to stay busy, Eric thought, and not have to look at him. "Does that matter to you?" Coach Taylor's finger made a pop sound as he drew it out.

"Why wouldn't it?"

His father sipped from his bottle, and his eyes fell on the window sill to the left. "When your mother died, Eric...I had to hold it together. I was the father. I had to."

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"You had no idea how much pain I was in. It didn't even register on your radar that you weren't the only one who was suffering."

Eric's fingers wrapped around the shiny surface of his Coke can. This is not where he had expected the conversation to go. "Sorry," he muttered.

His father shook his head. "I'm not asking for an apology. I mean...you're the child. I'm the father. It was my job to prop you up. I just...I couldn't _do_ it, you know? I just..." He swallowed and turned his gaze back down to his beer. "I couldn't do it, and I'm sorry. I didn't give you what you needed, and you ended up in place you never should have been."

"It's a'ight," Eric stuttered, uncomfortable with this unusual expression of emotion from his father. "That's all...it's all in the past now."

"But I _can_ do this. I _can_ give up this job, and I can stay here, and I can give you the life you want here. I can do that. I will do that."

"Ah." Eric drummed his fingers on the outside of the Coke can.

"I want to do that. For you. I'm sorry I mentioned the job to you at all. You know, I was just going to turn it down without even telling anyone. Bonnie found out...found the contract, and she convinced me maybe it would work out well for everyone. She has silly ideas sometimes, but, you know...I love her. So I listen."

Eric leaned back a little in his chair. "It wasn't a silly idea. I mean, I guess, you know...there are _some_ advantages to everyone. It's just...I'm not sure the advantages outweigh the disadvantages, you know? That's all."

His father nodded. "I hear you. I'll make the call now." He pushed his beer aside.

Before he could stand, Eric said, "Dad, don't. Not yet. Let's uh...let's sleep on it."

His father, who was partially off the chair, settled back into it. He looked at Eric curiously. "A'ight."

"Can I go out with Tami, now? For like...a drive?"

"Sure."

Eric went next door to get Tami, and they drove to the dark corner of the church parking lot where they often made out. But tonight they didn't make out. They talked instead, for a good hour, about whether a move to McAllen might not be such a bad thing after all. Tami told him she thought her aunt really should finish college, that she could advance her career by it. She said her aunt had already talked to her mother, before even suggesting the move to them. Her mother had agreed to the move _should_ it occur, probably because her aunt had promised to help even more with Tami and Shelly's college tuition once she'd finished her degree and ramped up her own career.

Tami also talked about how she might not mind starting over fresh with him in another school" "...where we're an established couple going in, and I'm not the new, latest girlfriend, you know?"

"But you _aren't_ the new, latest girlfriend, Tami! You're the goddamn love of my life. I mean...not that it's been a very long life. But..." He smiled gently. "So far."

Tami's lower lip trembled. She leaned in and kissed him deeply. "I love you," she whispered. She pulled back and bit her bottom lip. "I can stay, or I can move. I think I can be content with either. I know your dad will be happier moving. I think my aunt might be happier moving. Shelley will be miserable for three weeks, and then she'll have a ton of friends. So...what do you want?"

Eric ran a hand across his mouth, took in a deep breath, and contemplated the question.


	59. Chapter 59

_**A/N:**_ _Sorry, I know a lot of people were probably expecting this story to go on and on, but I never really meant it to be this long, and I'm wrapping it up with this final chapter. When I first started writing this story, I wasn't even sure I was going to include Tami - I thought it was just going to be a short story about Eric and his father and their relationship, but it obviously grew! I'm at over 116,000 words now, and I didn't even notice it happening. I hope you've enjoyed this tale._

[*]

Tami loved the way Eric looked while he carried the boxes, especially in that red and green muscle shirt, with his tan, muscular arms glistening with sweat in the sun. She leaned against a post of the carport, not far from the _For Rent_ sign, and watched. Aunt Bonnie decided not to sell the house, in case things didn't work out in McAllen. Besides, the rental income would be a good source of funds while she took off six months from working to finish her degree.

Coach Taylor had already put in a bid on a duplex in McAllen, and the offer had been accepted. He would close in two days, which was why the Taylors were moving already. Tami and Shelley and Aunt Bonnie would follow, arriving the day before school started, and they would move in right next door, with only a single wall between her house and Eric's.

"Nice view," her aunt said with a smirk as she came to stand beside her. She held a glass of lemonade and watched Eric's dad as he filled his pick-up truck to the brim. Eric was loading the rented moving truck. "So how did you talk Eric into moving?"

"I didn't," Tami said. "We just talked _about_ it. And he talked to his dad. And...it was his decision."

"And you're really okay with this?"

"Yeah. I am. Shelley, on the other hand..."

Aunt Bonnie sighed. "I told her she could have a moped when she turns 16, and now she's on board."

"Are you serious?"

Tami's aunt nodded.

"Why can't _I_ get a moped?"

"Because you're getting a vehicle this evening. A used, 1979 Dodge pick-up. In red."

"Really?" Tami's eyes widened. "You're buying me a _truck_?" God knew she couldn't afford one.

"No, your mother is. She's saved up a bit, without you girls living with her, and working so much, and she wants to give that gift to you. She's on her way right now with it. She'll fly black. But you'll have to pay the insurance out of your part-time earnings."

Tami couldn't believe her ears. The mother who had once refused to allow her to go out at all was now buying her a car?

"Your mom loves you, Tami. I know that's hard for your to believe sometimes. But she does."

Coach Taylor meandered over. He rubbed an arm across his brow. "Is that for me?" he asked, nodding to the lemonade.

Aunt Bonnie too a suggestive sip and then handed it to him. He smiled, shook his head, and drained the glass. Tami left them to talk while she made her way over to Eric. The sun was high and strong in the Texas sky, and normally the blinding heat would bother her, but right now, it felt like some kind of omen of opportunity, a promise for yet another fresh start, an even brighter future, a new world that she and Eric would learn to navigate together.

He slid a box into the U-haul as she approached and tuned with a grin on his face. "I'm going to miss you."

"All five days we're apart?" she joked.

He pulled her close, against his sweaty chest, and kissed her lips hard. "All _five,_ " he murmured through his kisses. "Every single one of them."

[*]

The girls at McAllen High were dissapointed to learn that the new quarterback already had a girlfriend, and not a long-distance one either. He was supposed to have been fresh meat. A few tried their hands at seducing him anyway, but it wasn't long before word got around that any such efforts would be wasted. Tami dedicated herself to her studies, volleyball, and Eric, and she knocked her S.A.T. so far out of the park that she became a National Merit Finalist.

Eric's academic performance was less stunning, but he became a rising star on the football team. Tami and Eric went "all the way" for the first time that November, the Saturday after he won an important playoff game. It was an unusually warm afternoon for fall, and they drove down and parked in a secluded spot by the lake. They made love in the bed of the used pick-up Tami's mother had brought her. Tami's mom would have been mortified to know what her daughter was doing in it, but Tami wasn't the least bit mortified. They'd waited a long time, Eric had been patient, and she felt no shame at all. It was a beautiful first, and when they lay wrapped in blankets afterward, slowly and tenderly caressing one another, Eric asked, "Was it good?"

"Very good."

"Good enough to marry me?"

She laughed. "What?"

"Well, they say you should never buy a car without taking it for a test drive. Now that you've had the test drive...what do you say?"

"Are you serious?"

"I couldn't be more serious, babe."

It seemed ludicrous, to promise marriage to a boy at the age of 18, but she did. She'd never been more sure of anything in her life. They didn't tell his father or her aunt of their private engagement, not yet, not then. But when Tami revealed to Aunt Bonnie that she was turning down her acceptance to an ivy league college in order to follow Eric to Texas A&M, the truth came out.

"You can't throw away an opportunity like that for a _boyfriend_ , Tami!" her aunt insisted.

"I'm not," Tami replied earnestly. "I'm not throwing anything away for a boyfriend. I'm making a _compromise_ , for the man I'm going to _marry,_ for the sake of _our_ future together."

Aunt Bonnie thought she was marrying too young. Coach Taylor seemed less reticent about the union. "Look," he told Tami's aunt, "she can go to a fancy ivy league school that only offers her a 50% tuition scholarship, and graduate in massive debt. Or she can take a full academic scholarship to A&M. She and Eric can live in family housing, which his football scholarship will cover, and they can both keep each other out of trouble. Maybe they won't party their way through college like I tried to do. Eric will stay focused on his studies and his game. He'll achieve what I never did. He may even get drafted to the NFL."

Eric _didn't_ get drafted, but he and Tami had to grow up quickly, especially after the condom broke their sophomore year and Julie was born their junior year. Because of the baby, it took Tami six years to earn her B.A., though Eric made his way out in four and went straight to work as a young P.E. teacher and assistant football coach. Tami received her B.A. the same year her aunt finished her Ph.D. thesis.

From there, life rolled forward like a steam engine on a roller coaster track. But through all the ups and downs, Tami and Eric had each other, and a marriage built on the firm foundation of friendship.

[*]

"I'm confused," Matt told Julie as they drove by a sign that read _South Padre Island...65 miles_. "I thought your grandfather lived in McAllen."

They were going on a month-long, cross-country road trip. Julie considered it a graduation present to herself. They'd already stopped off in Dillon, Texas to see old friends, and soon they'd be seeing her grandfather and grandaunt in south Texas. Next, they'd stop by Pennsylvania, visit her parents, and pick up all their stuff, which was currently in storage in the Taylors' two-car garage. They'd shipped it there three weeks ago.

The young married couple didn't exactly have a home at the moment. Their lease on the Chicago studio apartment had ended in June, Matt had quit the art gallery, and they would be settling in Maryland soon. In late August, Julie would start her job as an 8th grade English teacher in a suburb of D.C. Matt had gotten a job as a tour guide at the National Gallery of Art. It wasn't what he wanted to do for a living, but it would bring in a little extra income while he tried to sell his art.

"He does, most of the year," Julie explained. "But we're staying at his beach house on South Padre. He _also_ has a duplex an hour away in McAllen, which he shares with my grandaunt. They each own and live on one side of the duplex. They're a thing."

Matt turned off the radio. "Wait...what?"

"It's not as incestuous as it sounds. She's my mom's aunt, but he's my dad's dad. So they aren't related or anything. By blood, anyway. They've been dating for like...I don't know...twenty-three years."

"What? How can you _date_ someone for twenty-three years?"

Julie shrugged. "They live in that duplex, and they each have their own side of it. They go out on dates. And sometimes they make each other dinner on their own side of the duplex. And sometimes they sleep over together on one side or the other, but not every night. They have their own homes, their own bank accounts, their own lives, but...they're _together_. She's a psychology professor at UT-Pan American, and he's the Athletic Director there."

"Does UT-Pan American even have a football team?"

"Not _that_ kind of football," Julie said. "But they have soccer, basketball, baseball, track and field, that sort of thing. Grandpa Taylor oversees the whole athletic program, though Dad says he's retiring in six months. He's getting too old for the stress of it."

"That's just weird," Matt replied as he switched lanes. "Why doesn't he just marry her?"

"Apparently, he asked her more than once, but my grandaunt turned him down so many times, that he eventually stopped asking. Then she decided she _did_ want to get married, so she started dropping hints, but he refused to take them. So she finally asked _him_ to marry _her_ , and he said no. So they just kept dating."

"So...they've dated around?"

"No. They've only ever dated each other in all that time."

Matt laughed. "Weird."

"My mom thinks it's kind of awesome. She says maybe Dad should get his own house next door and take her out on dates when he wants to see her and just sleep over when she wants him to. But Dad says that would be _cost prohibitive,_ and that if he's going to have his own house, he gets a girlfriend."

Matt laughed. "Can you imagine your dad with a mistress?"

"No. He likes not having to work at it."

"Oh, I think he works at it," Matt said. "Your mom's not exactly low maintenance."

"What?"

"Neither are you, if I'm being honest."

"Watch it, mister," she warned him.

He smiled, and Julie laughed and kicked off her sandals. The road wound on to South Padre as she put her bare feet up on the dashboard and reached for her young husband's hand.

 **THE END**


End file.
